All You Need Is Love
by MochaButterfly
Summary: Ginny wakes up one morning and finds herself in a totally different world. The year is 1607, she's a Muggle, there are only few magical people in the world, she's an only child, she's betrothed to her worst enemy, and she's . . . a princess?!
1. A Different World

Summary: Ginny wakes up one morning to find herself in a totally different world

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters, and I have put them in a world between ours and hers.

A/N: Oooh, I know I shouldn't be starting another fic! But the plot bunnies attacked me and I just HAD to start this. I'm in the process of working on _The Return of Salazar Slytherin_, _Wrongfully Accused_, and I SHOULD be working on _The Ginny Weasley Diaries_. But when I get ideas I just have got to get them typed. I will work on each story a fair amount of time and try to get good-length chapters out as quickly as I possibly can.

For a bit of info on this here fic, it will be mostly romance (hence, the genre) between Ginny and Draco (my fav pairing!). Of course, what good's a Harry Potter fanfic without the great hero himself? So he'll be in here, too. This is a world created by my imagination, sort of a cross between the wizard world and the real world during 1607. Not everyone is magical, but there are dragons and fairies and all that fun stuff. Its rated R cuz I will most likely put in some heated romance scenes (there will be NO sex in this fic . . . I know everyone does it, but not my little Ginny/Draco. But they will go pretty far). Well, now that I've rambled on and on, I'll just get into the story!

All You Need Is Love Chapter One A Different World 

**_England, December 5th, 1607_**

The bed was too soft.

That was the first thing that floated into Ginny Weasley's mind as she surfaced from sleep. She wasn't used to such softness, like sleeping on feathers. But it felt so good, and since she was still half-asleep, she did not pay it much mind. 

She stretched luxuriously, a small smile on her lips. Her dream had been a pleasant one . . . she'd been in the arms of some man with silvery-blond hair and it had been very enjoyable.

Her eyes fluttered open, and slowly her smile faded.

She was not in her Hogwarts bed. The one she was in was two times the size of what she was used to. She lay among a sea of fluffy pillows and satin sheets, with thick navy blue curtains hanging open from the canopy, giving her a view of what was not the Gryffindor seventh year girls' dormitory.

Ginny gasped softly and sat up, confusion settling over her. She took in her surroundings, half believing that it really was not there.

The room was enormous. A thick, dark Persian rug covered the hardwood floor, and a fire blazed in the marble fireplace, cackling gently and giving the large place a soothing quality. The walls were wallpapered in dark red, and there were gas lamps decorated with gold attached to them. Hanging from one was a life-sized portrait of herself, and it thoroughly creeped her out. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling, but all the light that was needed came through the ceiling high windows on the wall the head of the bed was pushed up against. From where she was sitting, she faced closed double doors beside a monstrous mahogany wardrobe. There was a large table with gold cushioned chairs in the middle of the room, and up against the wall was a desk with a washbasin. 

Ginny gaped. The room was elegant and gorgeous; there was no doubt about it. It gave her the feeling of an ancient castle.

_What on earth is going on?_ she thought, pulling the coverlet back. She got out of bed to stand before the full-length mirror. 

She looked normal, except for the fact she wore a long, old-fashioned white nightgown. Her reflection stared back at her, showing her the confused arch of her eyebrows. Ginny had never really been interested in her mirror reflection – people told her she was the prettiest girl in school, but she didn't care. She was the only one in her year who didn't use makeup, but what was the point? Her porcelain skin never needed any, not to mention she was rather fond of her freckles.

But her looks were the farthest thing from her mind at the moment. Nothing was wrong with her, so why was she in this beautiful, classical room? Was she dreaming? For some reason she doubted it . . . it felt so real. She could hear the popping of the fire, could feel its warmth against the side of her body, could think clearly and rationally. So if she wasn't dreaming, then what was happening?

The double doors opened, jerking Ginny's head from the mirror. A short, plump woman with straight black hair and wearing a long plain white dress bustled in, not glancing at her.

"Majesty, time to wake . . ." she said with a Spanish accented voice, but trailed off when she saw Ginny before the mirror.

_Oh no_, Ginny thought. _This woman knows I'm not supposed to be here. _

But the Spaniard's face only lit into a warm smile. "I am surprised to see you awake at the proper hour, Majesty," she said, speaking perfect English. "Surprised and glad."

_Majesty?_ Ginny thought. Surely this woman was confusing her for someone else. "Where am I?" Ginny asked, her voice quite and hoarse even to her own ears. 

The woman appeared not to have heard her; she went straight to the wardrobe and opened it, shifting through its contents. "Your father has told me he would like to see you wear one of your velvets for His Highness Malfoy's arrival this noon. What color would you like?"

_Malfoy?_ Ginny repeated in her head. _Did she say Malfoy?_ "His Highness Malfoy?" Ginny spoke aloud. "What, is he a king or something?"

The lady turned and stared at her. "M'dear, are you doing this to get a rise out of me?"

_I could ask you the same thing._ "I beg your pardon?"

She sighed, and settled her lips into an understanding smile. "Majesty, I know you simply detest Highness Draco, but you have been betrothed to him since . . . well, since before you were born. Don't speak a word of this, but I believe that was poor judgment on your father's part, not allowing you two to grow up as playmates together. To have you meet for the first time two months ago, and with the wedding being planned for Christmas, well, I can sympathize for you . . ."

But Ginny was no longer listening. The main words of this woman's sayings floated around her head. _Highness Draco . . . betrothed . . . meet . . . detest . . ._

She tried to piece it together. This woman thought she was someone she clearly was not. And she needed to set her straight.

"Listen, ma'am, I appreciate what you are trying to do –"

"Ma'am?" the woman said, sticking out her bosom and swelling to her full five feet. "I beg forgiveness for interrupting you, Majesty, but I do not like the word 'ma'am' coming from your lips in addressing me. You call me Maria, you hear?"

"All right, Maria," Ginny said, fighting the urge to smile. She was quite taken to Maria, even from the few sentences she had spoken. "I just don't think I'm who you . . . well, think I am."

Maria smiled sympathetically. "Ah, dear Majesty, do sit down with me."

She reached up to put her arm around Ginny's shoulders and led her to the edge of the bed. Maria took Ginny's hands in hers as they sat down, and she turned to face her. Ginny opened her mouth to speak more when she cut her off with the raising of her hand.

"Silence, m'dear," she ordered. "Let me speak with you for a moment. I know this is a hard time for you. This time next year you will be married, and Wales and England will be one kingdom. Goodness knows that's a lot of land, and the pressures of keeping everything orderly will be high. But Prince Draco is a good man despite what he tries to let on. I have a gift, Majesty, you know I do, to see through people's hard shells and see what sort of soul they have. You're life with him will be good. I know you two don't have much in common, but sometimes opposites make the best relationships."

"I'm marrying Draco Malfoy?" Ginny burst out, unable to keep horror from her face.

Maria laughed, and it was a trilling laugh that caused the corners of Ginny's mouth to tug into a smile. "You've known it for your entire life, Majesty," Maria said, patting her hand. "Don't act so surprised. Besides, Prince Draco is very handsome. You will produce beautiful children."

The thought of having children with Draco Malfoy, sworn enemy to Ginny's entire family, made her stomach lurch. Yet she couldn't help but picture him in her mind, and knew that Maria was not lying. Ginny hadn't seen him for quite a few months now, since he had graduated from Hogwarts the previous June. But she could still remember his finely chiseled face, his lips always twisted into a sneer or a smirk, his cold and flashing ice gray eyes, and silky white blond hair that was long enough to spill over his eyes if he allowed it. He was what Ginny always thought of as a "demon angel" because he looked like an angel but had the temper and wit of a demon. She had seen quite a few fights between him and her older brother Ron to know that he despised just about anyone to liked Harry Potter, or anyone with red hair and the last name Weasley, for that matter.

"Now," Maria said, giving one final hand pat and standing up to return to the wardrobe, "back to the gown color. Which would you prefer?"

"Whatever you think is best," Ginny said absently.

_I'm not dreaming_, she thought slowly, _so I must be in some sort of warped world._

"What is the date, Maria?" she asked suddenly.

"The fifth of December, m'dear."

"Year?"

Maria turned and gave her a queer look. Ginny forced a grin. "Just want to see if you know," she said, feeling incredibly stupid.

"1607," Maria replied, rolling her eyes, and turned back to the wardrobe.

_1607!_ her brain screamed. _Nearly four hundred years ago! I'm four hundred years into the past!_

Her wand. She would need her wand. But as she began to search for a place where it would be, she realized that she probably didn't have it. She was most likely Muggle. 

Her eyes flew to her self-portrait on the wall. Yes, definitely Muggle, or else her picture would be grinning and waving. Instead it was deathly still, a wry smile playing on her lips. 

"What do you know about magic, Maria?" Ginny asked, once more feeling like an idiot.

But Maria didn't even turn around. "Much as the next person, I suppose," she said, going through dress after dress. "'Fraid I can't help you much on that subject, but you know that sorceress what's-her-face . . . um, Alexandria . . . could probably tell you all you wanted to know. That woman is in tune with every magical person on this planet, I swear."

"So . . . you don't find magic odd?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Not odd," Maria replied. "Most people in this kingdom do 'cause they don't understand it. But I don't understand it but . . . I respect it, y'know what I mean?"

"Absolutely," Ginny said.

"You've always had a fascination with sorcerers and such . . ." Maria started, but Ginny went back into her thoughts.

So there was magic in this world she was in. But _she_ obviously wasn't magic. How could that be? She'd grown up in magic, been surrounded by it her whole life, and now she was in a place where she was Muggle?

_Am I ever going to get out of this world?_ Ginny wondered. _I'm not sure I could survive! Being married to "Prince" Draco . . ._

Then something hit her. "Maria!" she cried, not meaning to sound so alarmed.

Maria spun around, startled. "What?" she asked, looking concerned.

"If Malfoy's a prince does that make me a . . ." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "A princess?" She whispered the last sentence.

Maria trilled her laugh again, placing on hand on her round middle. "Oh, m'dear, you are a trip! You are meant for the stage, you are. You can fake a very good surprised and horrified expression."

_Princess . . . princess, I'm a princess . . ._ The words swam around in her head, and she felt slightly sick. She had not grown up even close to a princess – youngest of seven, the only girl, there hadn't been much money to spare for each family member's individual needs. Ginny had been raised with hand-me-downs and had despised it. But now she was a princess!

_I'm a princess and I'm going to marry a prince_, she thought. Her image of princes had always been tall, dark, handsome men, riding on a white horse to save their maidens. Not tall, fair, scowling men who made fun of people because they didn't have money, or didn't have wizarding parents, or any parents at all. _I'm going to marry Draco Malfoy._

"Ah!" Maria cried triumphantly, turning around with a gown of green velvet in her arms. "Perfect! It will bring out the gold in your hair wonderfully, m'dear."

Ginny allowed herself to be squeezed into a corset, laced so tight she felt as if she was going to pass out, and then sat patiently in her own thoughts as Maria put thick white stockings over long underwear, and finally dressed in the velvet gown.

The way she looked in the beautiful dress almost made up for the tight corset. The bodice was tight to show off her small waist and swelling breasts, and the skirt billowed out around her legs. It touched the floor and made a swishing noise when she walked. The sleeves were short, and Ginny wondered why because it had to be cold outside. But then Maria gave her white gloves that reached past her elbows. Ginny didn't put them on yet because under the heat of all the clothing she was beginning to sweat.

Maria combed out Ginny's long, gorgeous thick red hair that curled just right at the end and put it up in a fancy upsweep. Ginny had often imagined what it would be like to wear the gorgeous gowns of earlier times, but had never thought it would suit her so well – as uncomfortable as it was. 

"What time is, uh, Prince Draco arriving?" Ginny asked, hating saying the first name out loud. It did not sound right coming from her mouth.

"I have told you many times," Maria said. She was standing behind Ginny and, being so short, had to peer around Ginny's shoulder to meet her eyes in the full-length mirror's reflection. "Noon. Now, what necklace would you like to wear?"

Ginny nearly fainted at the collection of jewels she had. They were hers . . . she had millions of Galleons worth of jewels, and they were _hers_. Not her father's, the "king" or her mother's the "queen" but her very own.

"Oh my," Ginny murmured, peering into the large box of necklaces, bracelets, and rings. 

With Maria's help, she finally settled on a small heart-shaped emerald on a thin gold chain. Ginny felt the others were too bulky and flashy and it would be like an anchor around her neck, though she didn't say such a thing.

"Breakfast," Maria said, and thankfully led the way down to the dinning room.

They were most certainly in a castle. A castle much different from Hogwarts – it was somewhat colder, and unfamiliar. There were no voices, the only sound being Ginny's high-heeled shoes clicking on the stone floor. No blazing torches lit the passageways. Instead, they used fancy gas lamps that had flickering, meek candlelight. 

Maria led Ginny into the dinning room, nearly twice the size of Ginny's bedroom with a table that could probably seat at least fifty people. It was rather ironic, then, to see only two people sitting at it while two maids came in and out of the adjoining kitchen with more food and drink.

A man and a woman sat at the table, wearing gorgeous clothes that had to be very expensive. Maria went into the kitchen, leaving Ginny standing there and feeling very silly.

The woman looked up and frowned at her. The man didn't glance at her and said gruffly, "Well, c'mon, girl. Sit down and eat."

Ginny obeyed, and sat on the right side of the man, who sat at the head of the table. Across from her was the stern-faced woman, reminding Ginny of Professor McGonagall. 

_Will I ever see Professor McGonagall again?_ Ginny thought rather sadly.

"How was your sleep, dear?" the woman asked, sounding strained. It was as if she was forcing the polite words from her mouth.

Ginny stared at her for a moment. _Dear_? Oh, God, these were supposed to be her _parents._ The king and queen . . . of what? Wales or England? She didn't know and felt foolish.

There was a tense feeling in the air, almost awkward, and Ginny knew it wasn't because this was the first time she'd ever seen these people in her life. They didn't get along. She wasn't sure how she knew it, but she did. This couple did not tease each other, or kiss each other goodnight, or hold hands when strolling around town. They did not tuck their daughter in, did not read her bedtime stories, or help her with her schoolwork. This family was the total opposite from what Ginny was used to.

"Eat," the man, her father, said gruffly, nodding to her full plate. Her plate full of some stuff she couldn't recognize, that is. 

Ginny picked up one of the many forks and began to lower it to her food. How on earth could she eat anything when her stomach was pinched so tight she could scarcely breathe?

The door to the kitchen opened and out came another servant. Ginny looked up, uninterested, until she saw the face of the servant.

Unlike most servants she had seen, it was a man. Or a boy, rather. With that familiar messy black hair, bright green eyes, and glasses, Ginny recognized him instantly.

"Harry!" she cried, dropping her fork with a clatter on to her plate.

Harry, who had been in the process of leaning over the table to place a bowl of porridge in a spot free of other items, froze and stared at her. Ginny's "parents" ceased chewing at also kept their eyes on her, looking between stunned and shocked.

She felt her cheeks flush. "You are Harry, aren't you?" she asked meekly.

He nodded slowly, placing the bowl down and straightening. Then he turned and went back into the kitchen, and Ginny could've sworn he was walking faster than usual.

_He doesn't recognize me_, she thought, her stomach dropping with dread. _Harry doesn't know me. Does that mean Draco won't know me, either?_

Ginny returned to her food, but her appetite was lost. She poked at some sort of brown meat with her fork. It was then she realized that Harry hadn't had the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

A/N: So what do you think? It isn't too terrible, is it? I will continue but you must give me time! Ooh, I know I should've started another story but I just couldn't help myself! Now it's two o'clock in the morning and I'm famished, so I think I shall go to bed! 


	2. A Very Different Encounter

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all and if you sue me you won't get very much – I'm broke.

A/N:Wow, all the reviews I got inspired me to write this second chapter extra quick! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and this chapter is dedicated to you :)

Chapter Two – _A Very Different Encounter_

"Highness. Highness, time to wake."

Draco Malfoy felt someone shaking his arm, bringing him out of a deep sleep. He opened his eyes and was ready to snap irritably at whoever it was. But to his surprise it was someone he didn't recognize. A scrawny boy of fifteen with brown hair that looked as if it were made of straw hovered over him, biting his lower lip almost anxiously. 

Instantly awake, Draco sat up quickly. He was not in his bed at home anymore. He was in a larger room, with antique furniture and a lot more color than he was used to. Instead of the usual house-elf sent by his mother to wake him up there was a real person. A terrified person, a boy who looked ready to wet himself, but nonetheless a person.

_Did Mother move me during the night?_ Draco wondered. His house was large and he knew there were many rooms kept behind locked doors that he had never seen before. _And has she hired new help?_

The boy stared at Draco expectantly, eyes wide.

"Where am I?" Draco growled at him.

For a moment there was something besides fear on his face, and that was confusion. But then he sputtered, "I-in your room, Your Highness."

"Highness?" Draco raised an eyebrow, amused. "Is this Mother's idea of a joke?"

The look he received was once more puzzled. "W-what do you mean, Majesty?"

Draco peeled back the covers and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He nearly yelped when he saw what he was wearing. A _dress!_

Well, okay, not exactly a dress. It was a nightgown, but it was one that women would wear. _Not_ men.

"This isn't funny," Draco snapped at the boy, narrowing his eyes. "Mother could have at _least_ put me in pajama pants. Send her up to me this instant."

The boy blinked. "But, Your Highness, y-your mother is . . . she is not with us anymore."

Now it was Draco's turn to blink. "What?"

"S-she is dead, Majesty," he blurted, and looked utterly terrified at being so blunt. 

_Okay, this is ridiculous._ "Then send my _father_ up here," Draco said slowly with a tight smile, playing along. "And do it before I lose my patience."

"Yes, M-Majesty," the boy said, and nearly sprinted from the room.

_Majesty? Your Highness? What is this about?_ Draco stood up and walked around the unfamiliar room. It was expensively furnished – but then, all the rooms in the Malfoy's manor were. Narcissa Malfoy spared no expense when it came to her decorating. 

The thing that was troubling Draco was that his mother wasn't the type who would move him during the middle of the night just for a joke. Narcissa was _not_ a joker. She was beautiful and rich, but she didn't have any sense of humor whatsoever. 

And Lucius . . . well, now that Draco thought about it, it could've been his father who'd done this. He _was_ the type who would waste his time moving his only son to a different room just to see his reaction. But it wouldn't be such a fine room. Lucius thought that a child (even though Draco was eighteen, in his father's mind he was still a child) should not grow up in finery. He believed strongly those who were raised in luxury and pampered were weak and would never amount to anything. So if he had actually done this, he would've sent Draco to the dungeons and waited for him to wake up there. He would not have hired some skinny boy to be there – he would have seen to it himself to be there and see how Draco would respond.

Draco considered leaving the room to put on some more manly clothes, but then decided to wait just a bit longer for his father to come. After that everything would be explained.

He sighed and sat on his bed, his eyes scanning the wall. They rested on a portrait of a very beautiful silver-haired woman. Draco stared at it curiously, wondering what was wrong with it. The painter had done an excellent job – the woman was radiant and her beauty had been captured perfectly. So why did it bother him?

Then it hit him. It was like a punch in the stomach.

The picture was not moving.

It was like a Muggle portrait – still and trapped forever in the same expression and same pose. Draco had always wondered how Muggles put up with their pictures – they were so _boring._

So was this Muggle painting a part of the joke his father was playing on him? Was he going to come in and laugh at how stricken Draco was looking?

As if on cue, the door opened. Draco quickly erased all stunned expressions from his face and stood up, ready for an argument.

But his father did not come in. Instead, a little girl of about seven flounced in, wearing a nightgown not so different from Draco's.

She had his silver hair, except it was long and hung down her back. Her face was so familiar and it only took him an instant to recognize it. She looked like a cross between himself and the beautiful woman in the still painting.

"Draco," she said, smiling brightly at him. "Good morn! Are you excited?"

"Excited?" he repeated dully, staring at her.

"Yes, excited, silly," she said. She couldn't keep still – she was bouncing on her heels in the doorway. "You're going to see that beautiful princess again. _I'm_ sure excited." She came into the room and began waltz around as if she were dancing with an invisible partner. "I've always wanted a sister," she added dreamily.

"Princess?" Draco said, not sure why he felt so dumb.

"Princess Ginny." The girl stopped dancing and stood before him, craning her neck to see his face. Her eyes were shaped much like his, with long black lashes, but her eye color was more of an ice blue than the steel gray he was using to seeing in the mirror. Draco could tell that she was going to be a very gorgeous woman when she grew up. "Oh, I know you don't like her much. But I think she's wonderful."

"Princess _Ginny_?" _What the hell is going on? Who is this girl and where is my father?_ "Where is my father?" he spoke out loud.

"You mean _our_ father?" the girl asked, giving him a sly look. "He's in the village, making the speech to the kingdom, remember? Everyone is looking forward to the wedding on Christmas! I think a sister is the best present you could give me, Draco."

She couldn't reach his face on her tiptoes, so she jumped and wrapped her legs around his waist, throwing her arms around his neck. He was not prepared for it and just barely managed to keep his balance, gripping her out of instinct to keep her from sliding down. Before he could drop her or ask her what the hell she was doing, she kissed him soundly on the cheek. 

"You're the best brother, Draco. You don't like Ginny but your marrying her for me. So I can have someone to replace Mother." Draco opened his mouth to say something when she cut him off. "Oh, I know, I know, no one can take Mother's place. You've told me a million times. But – well, you knew her and I didn't. I think Princess Ginny will work just fine for a mother for me, don't you?"

"You . . . please tell me you're not talking about Ginny Weasley," Draco finally said when nothing else came to mind.

"Yes, Ginny _Weasley_," the girl clarified.

He was stunned – there was no other way to put it.

His father would _not_ have gone as far as to find a girl who looked so much like him and have her pose as his sister. Not to mention there was no way he could have found someone whose features were like his, only more feminine and softer. This girl was very much related to him. And unless he had a sister he did not know about (which he knew he didn't – he had heard Narcissa complain and complain about how painful it had been to give him birth and swear time after time that she would never have another kid to ruin her figure) then this was not the world he was used to.

_Am I dreaming?_ But if he was dreaming, then why did the girl feel so warm and gentle against him, and why did he feel his heart softening towards her? If he was dreaming, why was he even wondering if he was? He'd had many realistic dreams before, but it had never occurred to him that he was dreaming.

And why was Ginny Weasley suddenly a princess?

"What's your name?" Draco asked the girl, setting her back on the ground.

She put her hands on her hips and gave him a smirk that very much reminded him of himself. "You know my name very well, Draco."

"Be a big girl and tell me anyway."

She rolled her eyes. "I stopped being a 'big girl' when I was five. Why are you acting so weird, Draco?"

"The way you're acting I would think that you've forgotten your own name," he said, crossing his arms and waiting.

The girl's expression softened. "_Fine._ My name is Isabella Elizabeth Susanne Marie Malfoy. Are you happy now?"

"That's what people call you?" Draco asked with a sneer. "Do they yell, 'Oy! Isabella Elizabeth Susie . . . whatever the rest is'?"

She pouted her lips and narrowed her eyes. "Everyone calls me Elle and you know it, Draco!"

"Of course. Now, when is . . . _our_ father returning home?"

"This isn't fair! You're being a jerk, Draco!" she said stubbornly, and spun on her heels, her hair flying around her. She stomped towards the door.

"Just a minute ago I was the best brother in the world," he said, smirking after her.

She said, "Ooh!" and left the room without another glance at him.

When Draco caught his reflection in the mirror across the room, he saw that he was smiling. It had been a while since anyone had made him genuinely smile.

But now he had to think. He sat down on the bed, all amusement gone from his face. Where _was_ he? He obviously was not at his house anymore. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he was in his _time_ anymore. 

And what was up with the Muggle painting? Did that mean he didn't have his wand?

A thorough search of the room proved that indeed he did not have his wand. But he hadn't expected it. Wherever he was, _whenever_ he was, he was supposed to be Muggle.

The portrait of the woman on the wall was not Narcissa Malfoy, but it was supposed to be his mother. The woman's face was kinder, gentler, and her eyes smiled playfully from the picture. 

_This is supposed to be my family_, he thought. _That girl . . . Elle . . . and this woman. I wonder what my father looks like?_

__His thoughts turned from his family to what Elle had said: Princess Ginny. Ginny Weasley, the youngest of six, all boys. The only Weasley remaining at Hogwarts. The girl who worshipped the ground Harry Potter walked on.

He smirked. Well, at least she used to. Around his sixth year, and her fifth year, her crush on Harry had seemed to diminish. Draco had never really realized it until now – until he actually sat down and _thought_ about her. He never thought about Ginny Weasley because he didn't give a damn about her. 

So what did she have to do with anything? Elle had said that Ginny was going to be her sister. Did that mean that perhaps Draco had another sibling, an older brother, who was marrying her?

But then he remembered what else Elle had said – _"You're marrying Ginny for me."_

He suddenly felt the urge to throw up. Oh, God, he was marrying _Ginny Weasley. _And if she was a princess, considering that princesses only married princes, that would make him a one. A prince, that is. 

_This is not a joke,_ he thought. He clutched his stomach in attempt to make it stop rumbling and giving him the sensation he was going to vomit. _This is real. I have a different family, I'm a prince, and I'm going to marry Ginny Weasley._

He didn't feel sick because of _her_, exactly. She was no doubt a very pretty girl, had probably been the prettiest girl in the school when he'd gone there. But the thought of marrying a Weasley – the family who hated him, whom he hated as well – was horrifying. Not to mention he did not want to get married.

The straw-haired boy returned then. Draco nearly laughed. He seemed so terrified to be in his presence it was amusing.

"M-Majesty, y-your father could not come home," he said, hanging back in the doorway. "H-he is nearly done with his speech, and – and says that if you would care to join him in the village –"

"Then quite stuttering and dress me," Draco ordered. Hey, he had the power, why shouldn't he use it? He wasn't going to feel guilty for being mean to someone who was obviously paid to do whatever he was ordered.

The boy nodded and went to the wardrobe. Draco did not like being dressed – it was very uncomfortable to have someone touching him, especially someone of the same sex. But he allowed it to be done, since he had no idea how to put on the clothes himself. They were too complicated and knew he would be lost if not for the boy.

"Tell me your name," Draco ordered.

The boy, who was kneeling down before him and tying his bootlaces, looked up, startled. "Beg your pardon, Majesty?"

"Your name," he repeated.

"Tim-Timothy," he said, staring up at him with wide brown eyes. 

"What, have I never said your name before?" Draco asked, sneering.

"N-no, Your Highness, you always call me . . ." he trailed off, his eyes back on the bootlaces.

"What do I call you?"

"You know, Majesty."

"Tell me!"

Timothy jumped at the shout, and without looking up replied in a trembling voice, "Y-you call me many things, Your Highness. Idiot, fool, ass . . . and those are the polite ones."

Draco was a bit surprised. He was never polite with servants or house-elves, but he never used names like _that_. He tried to call them by their correct names. "Well," he said, trying to make his voice as cool as possible, "from now on you're just Timothy."

Timothy raised his eyes again. "R-really, Majesty?"

"Unless you prefer the other names," he barked, and Timothy jumped once more. He finished tying the laces and stood up, only coming to Draco's shoulders.

"N-no, Your Highness, I do not. Timothy is fine."

Draco allowed his smirk to warm. "Good. Now, I'm starving. Where's my breakfast?"

"If you want it," Timothy said softly, "I could bring it to you up here. B-but you could also go down and eat with Mistress Isabella."

Draco thought for a moment. He wanted to speak more with Elle and see what other information he could milk from her. But deep down, the little girl had charmed him. He was beginning to like her. And he never liked people he barely knew. 

Draco had grown up an only child, and had secretly envied all those who had siblings. He didn't know what brother-sister ties were like, but he was sure it had to be similar to what he was experiencing with Elle.

"I would like to eat downstairs," he finally said.

Timothy nodded and allowed a small smile. 

The castle reminded Draco of his house – cold gray stone walls, torches giving off the only light for the heavy curtains were drawn tight over the windows. The corridors were drafty, and from the weight of Draco's clothes he figured it had to be winter.

Also, Elle had mentioned Christmas. It had to be November or December.

"How many days till Christmas, Timothy?" Draco asked, remembering that Elle had said the wedding would be on Christmas.

"Twenty days in counting, Majesty," Timothy replied awkwardly.

Twenty days! That meant it was December 5th. He was getting married in three weeks! 

_I've got to get out of this world_, he thought. _If only I knew how the hell I got here! Then maybe I'd know where to start in getting back. I have a hunch I'd need my wand to get out, anyway. I wish I had learned how to Apparate!_

Elle was already eating at a monstrous table all by herself. She visibly brightened when Draco came in and took a seat across from her. She was wearing a cute red dress that made her hair look like a halo of silver. 

"I am mad at you, Draco," Elle announced as Draco started to serve himself the only thing he recognized on the table – porridge.

Draco smirked without looking at her. "Why, because I was a jerk?"

"Yes."

"Get used to it, Elle. I'm always a jerk."

"Draco! Mother may have died when I was born, but I _know_ she did not raise you to speak such things about yourself," Elle snapped.

Draco snorted. "Speak such things about myself? I didn't say anything bad, Elle. I was telling you the truth. Anyone you ask can tell you that I'm the biggest jerk they've ever met. Try, for instance, your Princess _Ginny_."

"But that's different," Elle insisted, her food forgotten. "You both hate each other."

_That's a relief_, he thought. _I'm not sure what I'd do if Ginny liked me._

Then he suddenly wondered if she was the same, too. So far only her name was the same – that didn't mean she was _the_ Ginny Weasley, did it? His name was Draco Malfoy but from what he gathered from Timothy and Elle the Draco Malfoy they knew did not have his personality. Ginny could look like herself but not _be_ herself . . . _as if that makes any sense._

"Not everyone hates you," Elle went on. "In fact, our kingdom is looking forward to having you rule."

"What kingdom is that?"

"Wales, you idiot."

"And what kingdom is Ginny Weasley princess of?"

"England. Goodness, Draco, did you hit your head while you were slumbering?"

_That's not fair. How come Ginny gets to be princess of England and I get stuck with Wales?_ But then he realized something. "When we marry Wales and England will be one kingdom, will it not?"

"Wow, Draco, did you figure that out all on your own?"

Draco stared at her for a moment. Then he laughed. That was something someone from his own time definitely would've said. Then again, he wasn't totally sure he was in a _different_ time.

"You were right, Elle, when you said I hit my head during my sleep," Draco told her. "I've forgotten what year it is. Care to enlighten me?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. "1607, you great numbskull," she said.

Draco lost the grip on his fork and it clattered noisily on to the plate. "That's almost four hundred years ago!"

"What?" Elle eyed him curiously.

"I mean . . ." Draco felt a little stupid, and he rarely ever felt stupid. "Ignore what I said. My doctor tells me symptoms of bumped heads includes shouting out random things."

"Doctor? Good Lord, Draco, you are acting weird today."

"There _are_ such things as doctors, aren't there?"

"Of course! But we don't see a doctor! When we are ill we always see Albus."

Draco raised an eyebrow, and his fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "Albus . . . Dumbledore?" he guessed, knowing he was right.

"You know who he is!" Elle accused, huffing furiously. "He is the greatest healer Wales has seen in centuries. Lord knows how old he is. I've heard that he's nearly two hundred and he's still kept himself alive!"

"He's not that old," Draco said, returning to his food. Once again, just because the name was the same didn't mean he was _the_ Albus Dumbledore.

The door to the dinning room banged open, diverting his attention. A tall man walked into the room, his fine gold outfit wet. Snowflakes still clung to his gray-streaked brown hair as he took his seat at the head of the table wordlessly.

So this was his father, the King of Wales. Draco could see the familiarity of his mouth, the corners either drooped in a frown or up in a smirk, and saw that he'd inherited the cold gray eyes. But he'd obviously gotten his silver hair from his mother.

"Is it snowing, Father?" Elle asked innocently.

Their father finished drinking from a mug and wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand. "Of course it is. It rains every damn day, and since today it's cold enough it's snowing."

Draco caught a look of hurt on Elle's face as she stared down at her plate. 

"When are we leaving for the Weasleys, Father?"

This time, they both stared at him. Draco had a feeling he'd said something wrong.

"The _Weasleys_?" his father finally said. "Since when do you call them the _Weasleys_?"

_Since I met Ron Weasley on the Hogwarts Express first year_. "I dunno – what d'you call them?"

"The royal family of England," Elle said as if it were the most obvious thing. Then she turned to her father and said, "Draco hit his head during the night. I think he's a little confused."

Their father grunted but did not reply.

"So when do we leave for the royal family of England?" Draco drawled, staring pointedly at his younger sister.

"As soon as I'm finished eating," the king replied gruffly.

It was snowing. Ginny could look over her "mother's" shoulder and out the window to see the flakes falling. 

Normally, she loved to go out and play in the snow. But the dress she was wearing would never allow her to run and roll around the way she wanted to, so she dismissed the idea. Plus, she had to talk to Harry after breakfast.

Ginny managed to eat most of the food and excused herself quietly. Her parents didn't even seem to notice.

Maybe that was a good thing so they didn't see her go into the kitchen. A blast of hot air greeted her as she stepped inside, as if she wasn't already warm enough under all the clothing she wore. 

Many servants hustled around the large room, carrying trays and pots to the sink or to the old-fashioned fire stove. A few paused to give her a curious look.

Soon, everything had quieted except for the bubbling of boiling water. Everyone stared at her, waiting.

Ginny felt her cheeks flush. "I – I would like to speak with Harry Potter . . . please," she said, feeling idiotic.

Harry stepped forward – but then, no, it wasn't Harry. It was someone who had the same build as him, the same messy hair as him, but no glasses and dark brown eyes. Also, on closer inspection, she saw his black hair was dotted with gray.

_Could this be . . ._ Ginny's breath caught in her throat. _Is this James Potter?_

"What do you want with Harry?" he demanded.

"I – I would just like to speak with him," she said, practically wilting under his strong gaze. "Are – are you his father?"

He nodded shortly. "You've never showed an interest in my son before."

_If only you knew!_ "No, I guess I haven't. Is he here?"

"His kitchen shift is over," a woman spoke up.

Ginny swallowed. "Would you be so kind as to tell me where he is now?"

"Better do it, James," another older man said. "Or she'll tell her parents."

James glared at Ginny with such anger she almost wanted to cry. What had she _done_ that caused him to look at her in such a way? 

"He'll be in the washing room," James finally replied. 

"Where is that?" Ginny's blush deepened.

"Good lord, the girl is so spoiled she doesn't even know where the washing room is!" one woman cackled.

Ginny got the vibe that she was not very liked among the servants.

James gave her quick directions. Ginny thanked him as warmly as she could, but as she stepped by him to get take the servants' way from the kitchen to the washing room, he grabbed her arm hard.

She gasped, and looked up to meet his furious dark eyes. "If you do anything to my son," he hissed, "I will wring your neck with my bare hands."

Ginny was stunned for a moment, but finally found her voice as he dropped her arm. "Mr. Potter, I have no intentions of hurting Harry," she whispered.

He ignored her.

Heart pounding, she slipped by him and hurried as fast as her dress would allow from the kitchen.

As soon as she was a good distance away, she pressed her back against the wall and put a hand over her chest, breathing hard. Obviously something had happened that made James Potter so mean to her. She realized she hadn't seen Lily there, but that didn't mean anything, did it? Not _all_ the servants were in the kitchens, anyway. 

_Just find Harry_, Ginny ordered herself. _Maybe he can tell you why._

A/N: Whew. I always seem to get the good ideas for this story during the late PM hours. So, I shall go to bed now (and, as xtasii so kindly pointed out, famished means "hungry" not "tired") because I'm EXHAUSTED. There, that's a better word.

Now, REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	3. Where Are Your Manners?

Disclaimer: JK Rowling 

A/N: This is by no means a historical fic . . . I'm terrible at history!! 

Also, this chapter took me a while to get right. I had to figure out a way for them to react when they first saw each other . . . it was rather difficult. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter Three – _Where Are Your Manners?_

_ _

__

Ginny fortunately found the washing room with no problems. The door was slightly ajar, and she could hear the chatter and quiet laughter of those inside. Carefully, Ginny pushed the door opened and put one foot inside. She expected everyone to stop their work and stare at her like the kitchen worker's had. But to her immense relief, no one even glanced at her.

She stepped in further, standing rather awkwardly in front of the doorway. Biting her lower lip gingerly, she looked around for the familiar disheveled black hair of Harry. 

Mostly women were washing the clothes, standing around large wooden basins and hand washing the garments. Steam rose from the warm water in the basins, and the room was hot – nearly as stifling hot as the kitchens. Ginny felt dampness on her forehead and began to wish she hadn't allowed Maria to put so many heavy clothes on her.

Finally, her eyes rested on Harry, who was carrying an armload of linens to one of the basins. He hadn't noticed her, considering he was across the room. He was smiling at the women who were washing the clothes he dumped into the water, and then turned around to get more from the basket on the floor by the wall nearby.

Ginny lifted her long skirts, as to not get the hem wet from the water on the floor, and crossed over to where he was. He was just dropping another armful of cloth into the washing basin before he was able to see her. His eyes widened at her presence, but he did not say anything. He turned back to the basket to get the remaining clothes.

One of the three middle-aged women, who had all been chatting up until then, turned to Ginny. "Is there anything you require, Your Majesty?"

Ginny didn't note as much hostility in this women's voice as the servants from the kitchen, but perhaps the lady was just hiding it well. "I would like to speak with Harry for a moment, if you can spare him."

Harry dropped the last of the load into the basin. He replied without even looking up at her. "I am busy, Majesty," he replied in a calm, uninterested tone. "Perhaps later."

Ginny's jaw dropped open, but she quickly caught herself and snapped it shut. All hope that perhaps Harry would recognize her, that maybe he really was from her time, flew out the window. But she still _really _needed to talk to him, to see what he was like. If there was a reason why he was so cold to her. 

Well, she _was_ the princess, wasn't she? She could order them around, but it would only make the servants dislike her worst. Yet that was what they were paid for – serving the royal family – wasn't it?

"Now, please," she said as politely as she could manage. 

He lifted his eyes to her, and she saw impatience in the green depths. But he nodded once, letting out a small sigh.

Ginny forced a weak smile at the women. "I will return him in a moment," she promised, and turned to leave, Harry right behind her.

Once outside the washing room, Ginny shut the door firmly behind them. When she turned to Harry, she could not read his expression, but she saw visible anger, and perhaps even loathing, in his eyes. 

Ginny had never seen Harry look at _anyone_ in such a way. But to be seeing him stare at her like that made her heart crack into a million little pieces. Oh, God, what was she going to say to him? Her speech she had quickly prepared instantly melted away, and she found herself feeling very unintelligent, standing there with nothing to say.

Harry waited for about a full minute before he said, "If it's not that important, maybe you can come back when I'm not so busy?"

He turned to go back into the washing room.

"No!" Ginny cried, grabbing his arm before she could stop herself. "Don't go yet –"

Harry recoiled at her touch, jumping nearly three feet back. She gasped, and their eyes met once more. His were narrowed, but there was embarrassment mixed in with the hatred from before.

"I'm sorry," she whispered thickly, her hand fluttering up to touch the emerald necklace around her neck. "I did not mean –"

"If you will forgive me, Majesty," he said quietly, his eyes now on the floor, "I have much work to complete before the Royal Malfoys' arrival. I would very much like to get it finished on time."

"Aren't you wondering how I knew your name?" Ginny blurted, hoping to get him interested. He couldn't leave yet – there were so many things she needed to ask him. Even if he wasn't the Harry she knew, he was still a familiar face, and even that comforted her more than anything else. 

He was silent for a moment, still staring at the ground. "No," he finally replied, "I have a good idea how you knew my name."

Ginny's jaw dropped open. "How?" she said, barely above a whisper.

And then his eyes were meeting hers again, and they were blazing emerald fire. "I must be returning to my work," he said frostily. "If you'll excuse me, Your Highness."

With one final nod, he swept past her and returned to the washing room. Ginny didn't try to stop him this time.

Her throat closed up, and she felt a sense of dread. What had happened to Harry? He didn't have the scar and his father (and as far as she knew, his mother) was alive – so why did he act ten times as hateful as he had been when Voldemort had been after him?

But then she realized something. He had been perfectly nice with the women in the washing room. It was _her_ with whom he was angry with. Something she had done had made him hate her specifically.

She couldn't begin to imagine what she'd done. It couldn't be just because she was a princess and he had to devote his life to her and her family. It was something far greater, and far more emotional – she could tell by the deep sadness in his eyes. 

"Majesty?"

Ginny jumped slightly as a hand touched her arm. She turned and looked down to see Maria, who was nearly a foot shorter than she was. 

"Majesty, here are your gloves," Maria said, handing her the long white gloves. "You left them on the table from breakfast."

"Thank you," Ginny whispered, taking them.

"What's wrong?" Maria asked with concern, noticing Ginny's distress.

Ginny turned to her. "Maria, is Lily Potter still alive?"

Maria blinked as if she had not been expecting the question. "My dear," she said quietly, "you know the answer to that."

"Just say it," Ginny urged. "I need to hear it."

Maria sighed loudly. "No," she said quickly and sharply. "No, Lily Potter has been dead for a year. And you know it."

_That explains everything_, Ginny thought, then realized something. _Oh . . . no, wait, it doesn't. Just because Harry's mother is dead doesn't mean he should hate me. Unless . . ._

Ginny tried to swallow the huge lump in her throat. "Tell me," she began throatily, gripping Maria's upper arms firmly, "tell me that I did not kill her."

Maria's eyes widened and she straightened with a huff. "Majesty, why are you saying such thing! You know Lily Potter is dead and you know that _you_ did not kill her. End of discussion – Prince Draco and his family will be arriving in a few hours. Come, you look deathly pale, I'll see if I can add some more pink to your cheeks."

Ginny dropped her arms to her side, shoulders slumping with defeat. If she didn't kill Lily, then why was Harry showing such disgust towards her? Nothing seemed to fit.

_If I'm going to be in this world for a bit longer_, Ginny thought, following Maria down the hall, _then I'll need to find some answers about this. I need to know why Harry hates me so much._

Draco was cold and annoyed.

The stagecoach they had ridden in was drafty and barely any warmer then the snowy air outside. It had been a bumpy ride, and one time the wheels had sunk so deeply into the snow they'd had to stop for about an hour.

Draco couldn't feel his fingers, toes, or nose any longer. Beside him, Elle's lips were turning oddly blue. Draco glanced at her, then turned his eyes to their father, who sat across from them.

"Can't you put a heater in here?" he demanded, wrapping his cloak around him tighter.

"Heater?" the king repeated. 

Draco smirked and stared out the window. "Is there any way to keep the inside maybe, oh, I don't know . . . above freezing?"

"Draco," Elle whispered warningly.

His smirk widened and he looked across to his father once more. The older man was glaring heatedly at him. If looks could kill, Draco would be on fire . . . _which doesn't sound like such a bad idea at the moment_, he thought dryly, looking back out the window.

But finally, the horses had come to a stop. Draco got out of the coach into the air that was not so much cooler than what he had just been in, staring up at the castle where Ginny Weasley was supposed to live.

It looked like something off a postcard – a gray castle with many towers and lots of snow on the roof. It somehow gave off the vibe that the inside was warm and cozy, and there was a huge wreath on the two front doors.

Elle crunched through the ankle-deep snow to reach Draco's side. He glanced down at her, and saw her pale blue eyes staring up with wonder at the castle, her mouth stretched into a happy smile. Then she ran the rest of the way to the doors.

"Isabella," their father said. "Come back here and walk with us."

She ignored him and pounded on one door with the side of her fist. Draco hid a smile as he walked up the stairs behind her, flanked by nearly a dozen knights. Draco suddenly had the image of their armor freezing solid and they'd topple over when they tried to move. It amused him greatly, and he had an even harder time keeping his smile from being seen.

After about another minute, the doors finally opened by someone who reminded Draco of his butler at home. The tall, skinny man dressed in black bowed at them, then gestured for them to walk in.

Gratefully, Draco stepped into the warm front foyer, which was huge. He didn't bother to inspect it at all – he honestly didn't care about decoration.

He was too busy trying to spot Ginny. He hadn't seen her in quite a few months, not since he'd graduated from Hogwarts. It wasn't that he was looking _forward_ to seeing her, but he just wanted to see what his future wife looked like now.

_Of course, I plan to be back in my regular time before we get married,_ he assured himself.

"Their Royal Highnesses are waiting for you," the butler said, waving an arm dramatically. "Follow me, please."

They walked for another whole minute through corridor after corridor. _Couldn't they wait for us somewhere closer to the front door? _Draco asked, long since giving up on trying to remember the way they'd come. 

At last, they stopped before a tall door. The butler pushed it open for them and stood aside.

Draco's heart was pounding in anticipation. He was sure they were deliberately trying to keep him from seeing Ginny – first, the king had to go through. Then, about half the armed escorts followed. Elle bounced ahead in, and the rest of the knights went in after that. Lastly, it was Draco's turn.

His eyes quickly scanned the room. It was large, obviously a sitting room, with two antique red velvet couches facing on another, flanked by armchairs, on a thick expensive rug. The walls were painted gold, and a miniature chandelier hung from the ceiling, the candles the only source of light for the whole room besides the huge fire roaring in the fireplace.

Draco barely paid attention to the people who were supposed to be the King and Queen of England – his gaze went straight to Ginny. She was sitting so straight on the couch she was nearly on the edge, her back a good distance away from backside of it. She was wearing a long green dress that had a wide skirt and tight bodice. Her chest was bigger than he remembered, and her waist was smaller – but then, that could just be because of what she was wearing.

He could tell she was more nervous about seeing him than he was she. Her wide dark brown eyes stared at him, quickly running over his whole body before coming back up to his face. She looked paler than usual, but her skin was just as perfect as he remembered. Her thick mass of Weasley red hair was piled on her head, a few strands hanging loose around her face. Draco found himself noticing that unlike her brothers, her hair was wavy. 

The entire time Draco and Ginny had been inspecting each other, Ginny's parents had been exchanging hellos with Draco's father and sister. But now all eyes were back on him, as if waiting for him to say something.

Draco smirked, flashing his eyes at Ginny. He still wasn't sure if she was the Weasley he knew . . . Elle _had_ said they despised each other, which meant that she could be dreading seeing him for that reason. 

Elle nudged Draco with her elbow. "Say _hello_," she hissed from the corner of her mouth.

"Hello," Draco said obediently, walking over to the sofa the king and queen sat on. The woman smiled pleasantly at him, offering him her hand. He took it and kissed it quickly, then shook the man's hand firmly.

Reluctantly, he turned to Ginny, who sat on the opposite couch. She looked slightly alarmed.

"Hold out your hand for Draco, Ginny," the woman snapped. "Must I always remind you of your manners?"

Ginny swallowed, but stuck out her gloved hand. Draco knelt on one knee before her, still sneering, trying to see if she was from his time by her reaction. He took her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles, never taking his eyes from hers. Once more she swallowed nervously, and jerked her arm back quickly before he had a chance to release it.

"Draco, take Ginny and Isabella for a walk," his father commanded absently. "I'm sure you two have a lot of catching up to do on the past month."

Draco smirked even wider as he got to his feet, offering his arm to Ginny. She stared at it like it was a snake, before standing up as well and taking it gingerly.

The instant they were out of the room, Ginny dropped his arm. She didn't say anything, but stared at the floor as they walked.

Elle walked backwards so she could face them. "How have you been this past month, Ginny?" she asked pleasantly, sounding much older than her seven years.

Ginny, startled, looked up and stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. Then she glanced at Draco, as if comparing them. "Oh . . . she's your sister . . ."

And in that instant, Draco knew. She _was_ from his time. She wasn't a princess – she was just as clueless about this as he was. He felt somewhat relieved, knowing that he wasn't in this deal alone. But couldn't he have been someone else . . . anyone besides Ginny Weasley? Even Harry Potter would be more of a relief, because there was no chance he'd be marrying him.

"Elle," Draco informed her, twisting his lips upward into a sneer. "Her name is Elle."

"I knew that," Ginny snapped. "I just saw her last month." But her last sentence wavered a bit, as if she was unsure of herself.

Draco turned to his little sister, who was staring at both of them oddly. "Elle, would you mind running back and giving us a moment alone?"

Elle smiled slyly. "Of course, Draco," she said, running by them and sprinting down the corridor. They both watched as she rounded the corner, out of sight.

He turned back to Ginny, who now looked a lot more nervous now that she was alone with him. She still wasn't sure if he recognized her yet.

_Great, what am I supposed to say?_ he wondered, frowning. 

Ginny cleared her throat awkwardly, and began to pick at her nails. Her insecurity with him was almost amusing. 

"Well," she said finally, "are we just going to stand here all day?"

Draco managed to find something clever to say. "I thought you wanted to, since you've never seen such splendor in your life, Weasley."

Her dark eyes widened as she stared at him. Then they narrowed, and she crossed her arms under her breasts. "Perfect," she said sarcastically. "Out of all the people in this world _you_ have to be the one who is still the same."

"I'm just as thrilled to see you, Weasley," he drawled. 

There was another stretch of silence as they both stared at each other. 

"You look . . . well," Ginny said, wincing as if she had just committed a sin by complimenting him.

"You don't," he lied, shrugging. "What are we supposed to do now?"

She sighed and ran a hand over her forehead. "We should probably figure out how to get back to our time. In the next twenty days, preferably."

He grinned. "What, Weasley, you don't want to marry me?"

She looked horrified and dropped her arms to her side. "And _you_ want to marry _me_?" she said shrilly.

"Excellent point. So how do you plan to get back?"

"I have no idea," she said, and then brightened. "D'you have your wand?"

He snorted. "If I did then I wouldn't be here, would I?"

Her face fell. "Great," she said. "So we're both stuck here and we're Muggles."

"I must say this is an improvement for you," Draco said smoothly. "I'm sure you just about fainted when you woke up in this castle, right? I mean, I'm sure that if you sold this curtain" – he stepped to the window and put a hand against the heavy maroon curtains – "it would feed your family for a year."

She glared at him. "But I'm sure this was a change for you, too," she hissed. "Actually having someone who likes you? Too bad your little sister doesn't know you the way I do."

"You _don't_ know me," he snapped, yanking his hand from the curtain. She had struck a nerve. "Besides, I don't see any of _your_ git brothers running around, do you?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're upset because I actually have a sibling and you don't," he explained briefly. 

She crossed her arms again, rolling her eyes. "Wow, you read me like an open book, Malfoy," she said. "_I'm_ jealous of a bigheaded bugger like you –"

"I never said you were jealous," he replied coolly. "Now, if we can move on and stop bickering like children . . ."

"Since when have you been concerned about acting like a child?" she demanded, not ready to stop yet. "I lost count of how many times you and my brother fought at Hogwarts –"

Once again, she was interrupted, this time by someone clearing their throat from behind her. Ginny spun around and saw Harry standing at the end of the hall, his hands behind his back.

"Potter?" Draco cried out in disbelief. "_Potter's_ here?" He shot a glance at Ginny, and she could just see the amusement swimming in his gray eyes.

"Majesties, please excuse the interruption," he said, not looking at them but over their heads. "But your parents have requested your presence in the dining hall."

Draco tore his gaze from him back to Ginny. "He's a servant?" he whispered.

Ginny nodded helplessly, and made a grab for his arm as he started towards Harry. But she managed to only grab a little of his cape and the rest slipped through her fingers.

Draco walked up to Harry, who would not look at him. His expression was unreadable as Draco peered closely at his smooth forehead.

"What, no scar, Potter?" he snarled, sneering. "I guess you aren't the great and powerful savior here, are you?"

"Malfoy, stop," Ginny ordered. "He doesn't know what you're talking about."

Draco turned to face her, one eyebrow arched. "How come we're the only ones here who know that we're in the wrong time?"

"Shh!" she snapped. "Don't mention anything."

Draco put his attention back on Harry, his sneer returning. "He won't tell anyone," he said confidently. "He's just a _servant_."

Harry's mouth tightened, but other than that he did not change his expression.

"Quit it," Ginny said in his defense. 

"If there is no scar," Draco mused quietly, circling Harry, "then I wonder . . . does that mean your parents are alive?"

And suddenly there was a flash of movement. Ginny let out a shriek, and in an instant Harry had Draco pinned against the wall, and was giving him a look ten times worse than the ones he had given her. Draco looked slightly surprised, but otherwise unruffled. He continued to sneer, making no attempt to free himself.

Ginny hurried over to them. She hesitated before trying to pull Harry off Draco, because of the way he had reacted to her touch earlier. And also because Draco deserved the position he was in.

"Harry, let him go," she said softly.

His face, screwed up in anger, slowly relaxed, yet his eyes still blazed fire. He slowly released his grip on the front of Draco's clothes and took a step back. Then, he broke his gaze from the other boy's and turned, taking long strides down the corridor.

"The king will be sure to hear about this," Draco called after him. Harry did not make any signs that he had heard him; he just turned the corner without a word.

Ginny fixed a fierce look on Draco, putting her hands on her hips. "Malfoy, that was terrible. I can't believe you did that."

He sniggered. "He's a servant, Weasley . . . you expect me to let that by?"

"Oh yes, I forgot," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The only joy you get in your life is picking on Harry Potter, isn't it?"

"And your family," he added smugly.

Her hand itched to slap him, but she just balled both of them into fists at her side. Then she turned, her skirt flaring, and stalked in the direction Harry had left.

"I assume you know how to get to the dinning room," Draco said, hastening after her.

"Yes, but we're not going there."

"Where are we going?"

"The dungeons."

It took a whole ten seconds before Draco realized she was joking. She glanced over her shoulder at him and saw the somewhat shocked look on his face, bursting into laughter. He scowled, feeling like an idiot.

"God knows you deserve the dungeon," Ginny finished after she managed to sober. "What you did to Harry was . . ."

"So his parents are dead in this world, too?" Draco cut in. "How did they die if there is no Dark Lord?"

She was silent a moment. "We don't know if there is or isn't a Dark Lord," she said. "For all we know he's still in power here."

During Harry's seventh year he'd managed to defeat Voldemort – for good. The wizarding world was back to normal with little fear of anything anymore.

"What I'm saying is, how did his parents die?" Draco snapped irritably.

"His father is alive," Ginny answered. "His mother's dead."

"Oh, poor Potter," Draco remarked. 

Ginny pressed her lips into a thin line but didn't say anything. 

She then concentrated on finding her way to the dinning room. She really wasn't one hundred percent sure where it was. Fearing that she would get lost, it was a great relief when they came to the familiar doors of their destination. 

Ginny's parents, Draco's father, and Elle were all seated, waiting for them. They looked up when they both entered. Ginny wasn't sure of where to sit, but Draco strode right in and took a seat by his sister.

Ginny awkwardly stepped in and sat beside her mother, across from Elle. Her father sat at the head of the incredibly long table, like he had at breakfast, and Draco's father was on his right.

It was then Ginny realized she didn't even know her own parents names, much less her to-be father-in-law. She hoped the occasion would never arise for her to call on them by name and busied herself into putting food on her plate.

The two older men were discussing the latest discoveries in the Americas while everyone else ate in silence. Ginny felt the urge to speak in many places, but every time she opened her mouth, Draco shot her a warning glance from across the table. Her instinct told her to just ignore him and say what she wanted anyway, but then she realized it wasn't polite for women to speak out. Frustrated, she jammed food into her mouth to keep her from saying anything.

The conversation turned to the wedding coming up on Christmas, and Ginny tuned out. She really did not want to hear anything about it . . . besides, if all went well, then she would hopefully be out of this world by then. She was actually half-expecting to wake up back in Hogwarts the next morning. That thought comforted her, for without it she would surely scream her head off. She couldn't let the thought of being engaged to Draco Malfoy sink in . . . this all had to be some weird warped thing that only lasted a day.

_Right?_ she thought uncertainly.

" . . . what you were thinking, wasn't it, Ginny?"

Ginny nearly choked on a piece of meat she was trying to swallow. She coughed loudly and spit the half-chewed food back on to her plate. When she looked up, everyone, even the maid in the process of bringing the food in, was frozen and staring at her.

"Where are your manners?" her mother hissed, sending a smile across the table to Draco's father. "You must excuse her . . . she has been acting odd all day . . ."

Draco snorted, but only Ginny noticed. She shot him a death glance and covered the meat with mashed potatoes.

"Excuse me," she said quietly.

Draco's father gave her an odd look, but said, "Of course. Now, back on the wedding. Robert, the castle back in Wales is nearly finished. Why on earth would you want to build another one here?"

_My father's name is Robert_, she thought, making a mental note to remember that.

Ginny's mother spoke up, her voice quiet and persuading. "Ginny informed me the other day that she would be more comfortable living in England, closer to us, just in case an emergency arises . . . that's what I was just trying to say a minute ago."

Draco's father turned to Ginny. "Does it really matter where you live?" he demanded harshly. "We'll lose a lot of money if we have built that damn castle for nothing . . ."

"Why don't you ask Draco, Edward?" Robert suggested.

"Why does it matter to me?" Draco drawled.

"Because," Edward, his father, snapped wrathfully, "it's where you'll live, too."

Then Ginny knew what they were talking about – the castle where she and Draco were to live when they got married. She felt a slight chill and shivered at the thought of living along with him.

"I don't care," Draco said, sounding bored. "Whatever you think is best, _Father_." The exaggeration on father was very subtle, but Ginny could hear it. When she caught his eyes once again, she was surprised to see the amusement in them.

"I still think building here will be best . . ." Robert started, and once again Ginny blocked their voices out.

She barely ate any of her lunch because her stomach was twisting and turning in an almost painful way. She mostly moved it around on her plate, and when she glanced over at Draco, she saw he was doing something similar.

" . . . and how wonderful grandchildren would be. Ginny and I have discussed this, haven't we?" Ginny's mother was saying.

She perked up at the sound of her name. "Huh?" she said stupidly. "Grandchildren?"

Her mother flashed her an annoyed look, evidently once again wondering where Ginny's manners were. 

"Of course you'll need to produce an heir," Robert said, laughing in a way that clearly indicated it should've been the most obvious thing. "And I must say I would like to see a grandson before I go."

Ginny felt sick and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She glanced across at Draco, who was frowning, also looking slightly alarmed. 

_Marrying us isn't enough_, she thought, _but now they want us to have kids?_

"All in good time, of course," Edward stated. "Now, about those damn barbarians in Scotland . . ."

Ginny let out a breath, thankful for the change of subject. She closed her eyes briefly. _Please_, she prayed_, please let me wake up back in Hogwarts tomorrow. I can't marry Malfoy . . . I can't have kids with him . . . I'm only seventeen, I want to marry when I'm in love . . ._

When she opened her eyes, she found Draco staring at her with an unreadable look on his face. Then he grinned maliciously at her, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

_And I will _never _be in love with Draco Malfoy._

A/N: I feel as though I made Draco kinda evil in this chapter . . . but oh well, he'll be nicer, I promise! Also, if the next chapter doesn't come out as soon as hoped it's because I have a soccer tournament THIS weekend, then I'm going out of town NEXT weekend, and during the week I have school (AGHH!) So please wait patiently . . . and review!

Thank you to: Annabelle Peach, Shadow Kitten, Gryffindor Beauty, Venus Black, Danadian Sheep, Ariella, no angel, O-Town4EvaJake, Amethyst Luna, Hershey, w&m_law, Jive, BabBlGrl, Clara2000, Nice, BlondieGirl9782, dazlindz, Flaming Ashes, Relly, JennyT, Draco no Jikan, lily, Bella, FireSprite, Archer, Ingenious, mrspricillapotter, Mahree Avocado, Kristen, Angel St. James, kateydidn't, Rose Black, ~*Skya*~, xtasii, Gryffindor Chick, Zoemma, LanaMariah, DobbyWinky, Tiger*Lily, Kai, kitty, Princess Luna, LADYBUGGY, sara, Lissanne, AgiVega, DarkKnight, Gabrielle Alan, anonymous, velondra, Kara, Gryffingirl, dragonheartstring, Matrix 14, Blondie Gurl, Erin, Sarah, pyrobunnie, Joc, Starlight, AMB3R, Pigwidgeon Chick, The Reviewer, Melissa Belial Riddle, and Draco's (I've already read Cassie's stories and I know – THEY ARE TOTALLY AWESOME!!! Thanks for telling me, though :P)

Xtra points to those who reviewed TWICE (what use are the points? Um, I dunno . . . but I know they must be good!)


	4. Midnight Snacks

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all Chapter Four

_Midnight Snacks_

_ _

Draco stayed the night at Ginny's castle. When he asked Elle how long they were going to be there, she tossed her hair and wrinkled her nose at him. "We'll be here for at least a week," she told him, like he should've known. "Father and Ginny's parents need to discuss the wedding in detail. It's only three weeks away, you know."

_Unfortunately,_ he thought, but didn't say anything.

After dinner, Draco refused the invitation to sit and talk with the men and excused himself. A young maid, whose head reached to his shoulders, hurried to his side and was to show him to his room.

The maid chattered in a consistent stream but Draco ignored her, trying to memorize his way around the castle. He didn't hear her say goodnight and shut the door in her beaming face, unaware that he'd done such a rude thing.

His room was dark and elegant – it suited him well. The heavy curtains on the windows and the canopy bed was made of dark blue, and the carpet was nearly black. At the foot of his bed was a trunk, and when he gave it a cursory search he figured someone must've packed clothes for him to wear for the following week. He prayed there would be someone to dress him, for he would never figure out the complicated fastenings and buttoning of the garments he was required to wear. 

The room was lit by low candlelight from the lamps on the walls, casting shadows across the already dark area. Draco sighed loudly and sat on the bed. It took him nearly five minutes to get his boots off – they weren't hard to understand, but there were a million buttons he had to undo. When he finally only had ridiculously thick gray socks on, he set to work on his clothes.

The cape was easy enough, sort of like unfastening robes, but with everything else he had difficulty. The first layer was sort of like a sweater with dark stripes, and it was so tight he couldn't lift it over his head. He struggled for a few minutes, feeling stupid. Finally, he gave up, cursing loudly.

"I'll just sleep in my damn clothes," he muttered under his breath. As he turned to lie down on his back, the door to his room opened.

Harry walked in.

Draco sat up quickly, covering his surprise with a sneer. "Don't you knock, Potter?" he demanded. 

"I am here to see you into your night clothes," he said without any expression. 

Draco went from relief to finally having a way to get out of his heavy clothes to horror that Harry was to undress him. "No," he snapped. "I can do it myself."

"I think not," Harry said dryly, fixing his green eyes on Draco's gray ones. "Having grown up being dressed by someone else makes it impossible for you to know how to do it yourself."

Draco stood up. He felt slightly idiotic considering the cape was no longer covering his many shirts, which made his chest and shoulders look much bigger than they really were. He looked wrongly proportioned, and for an instant considered letting Harry help him. But the idea soon left his brain.

"Just because I've never done it before doesn't I don't know how," he said icily. 

"Fine," Harry said, and turned to leave.

Draco watched him, and before he could stop himself said, "Wait."

Harry turned back around, frowning and giving him a murderous look.

"Just get this sweater off me, will you?" Draco grumbled, once more feeling like a git. _He's a servant_, he reminded himself. _Not the Potter you know. He expects you to not be able to undress yourself._

But he still felt immensely foolish.

Harry gave an all-knowing smirk and stepped back into the room. He grabbed the bottom of Draco's sweater and began to tug it up.

He stopped. "You have to lift your arms," he said.

Draco obeyed, trying to think of something clever to say. "Do you always undress men?" he finally settled on.

Harry lifted the sweater over Draco's head and dropped it on to the ground. He did not meet Draco's gaze but he was radiating fury. "I certainly do not undress women," he answered after a moment, working on the rather fluffy white shirt that had been underneath the sweater. 

"Of course," Draco said. "Potter, the virgin."

This time, Harry gaped at him. He blinked in amazement, and Draco just smirked at him.

"You are not?" he asked.

"That's my business," Draco replied, even though he really was still a virgin. But that wasn't something he would share with anyone, much less Harry. 

Harry returned his attention to Draco's clothes, but Draco stepped back. "That's all," he said. "I don't need any more help. You can leave."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He spun and hurried out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Draco managed to get the rest of his shirts off, staying in his trousers. He didn't want to put another feminine nightgown on – he would much rather sleep in his pants.

Draco went around the room and blew out all the lamps, wishing he had his wand so he could do it from bed. Life wasn't going to be easy without his wand and he knew it. How did Muggles survive?

Finally, the room was in complete darkness, and he made his way back to bed. After hitting his shin on a sharp edge of an unidentifiable piece of furniture and swearing loudly, he finally reached it. It took him a few seconds to peel back the covers, which had been tucked in so tight they were nearly glued on. At last, he was able to lie on his back, staring at the top of the canopy.

He wasn't tired at all. He had no idea what time it was, but it was most likely still early. Probably around eight. His thoughts wandered back to his normal time, in the future. What was happening back there? Was he missing? Did a house-elf come in to wake him up and find him gone? Was his mother worried?

_Of course not_, he thought. _She probably doesn't even care._

__And how was he going to get back? He didn't even know how he'd gotten transported into the past in the first place. It didn't make sense. Sure, a Time-Turner could've been used while he was sleeping – once again, perhaps a joke on his father's behalf. But there is no way he could've somehow ended up as a prince, where everyone clearly knew him and his name and his looks. The same with Ginny – they were both in some sort of parallel Universe. Nothing would make sense. How come they were the only two, when Harry was there and even Dumbledore, who knew that they were from the future?

What was going to happen if they never got back? Would he have to marry Ginny and . . . have children with her? But the answer to that question was obvious – unless he suddenly woke up back home one morning before Christmas, then yes, he would have to marry her. 

Marriage. It was something that had rarely crossed his mind. He'd never planned on getting married and settling down, or having a family. His own family was a complete failure – why would one he make be any different? He didn't know how to be a caring husband, much less a loving father. No one would want to marry him in the first place.

_But Ginny _has_ to_, he thought, rolling on to his side. He almost felt bad for her, seeing her point of view for the first time. If he was her he wouldn't want to marry him, either. 

For hours Draco tossed and turned, thinking and thinking of ways to get back, of ways to get out of the marriage. But nothing came to mind, and he was only giving himself a headache and working up an appetite. Annoyed, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair, looking around the dark room.

He was never going to fall asleep. He might as well get up and get something to eat. It would probably be the only time he would be alone anywhere in the blasted castle, considering some sort of servant would always flank him. Hopefully everyone was asleep now, considering it was the middle of the night.

Not bothering to put a shirt on, he grabbed his cape and left the room, praying he wouldn't get lost on the way to the kitchen.

***

Ginny could not sleep, either. Every time she shut her eyes, they would snap back open at the prospect of marrying Draco. Then she'd get excited at the thought of waking up back in Hogwarts in the morning, and that did nothing to lull her to sleep.

She spent most of the night thinking about what had happened in the day. Why was she here? Was there a reason?

Suddenly, a horrible thought struck her. What if this was her real world and her other world – the one she thought was real – wasn't? What if she was supposed to marry Draco in real life and everything she remembered, everything she knew was fake?

But that didn't clear anything up for her. If this was real, then how come she believed something else was?

She shook her head and sat up. It was getting complicated, trying to decide what was real and what wasn't. Maybe if she took a walk around the castle she'd be able to clear her mind.

Kicking her legs over the side of the bed, she searched for the white slippers she'd seen Maria put out for her earlier that evening. After she slipped them on, she padded to the door. Her nightgown was long, dark (a blood red color), and thick and it would keep her warm enough. She carefully shut the door behind her, making sure it only made a click. She glanced up and down the hallway as if expecting someone to come. She had no idea where the next occupied bedroom was, but she certainly did not want to be caught prowling around at night. 

_Better safe than sorry._ The saying her mother had always told her surfaced in her mind, causing Ginny to smile sadly. What was her mother doing now (even if the world she was in now was real, she would always consider Molly Weasley her real mother)? Could it be that while Ginny was living her life in the future, the people of the past were living with a replica of her? And maybe that's what was happening now with those in the future?

Ginny passed a familiar door, realizing it would lead into the kitchen. It was slightly ajar, so she just gave it a gentle push and stepped inside, shutting it firmly behind her. 

_Now_, she thought, squinting in the absolute darkness, _how am I supposed to find a candle?_

__She tried to remember the layout of the kitchen from earlier that morning. If she walked straight she'd run into an island counter, and if she went right she'd walk towards the old-fashioned stoves. If she went left she'd hit the long table where the servants ate their meals. On the wall near the stoves there were cabinets – most likely there would be candles and matches in there somewhere.

There was one window in the kitchen, and pale light flittered in. But her eyesight still hadn't adjusted, and she could barely make out the shapes of the furniture. She turned away from the light and started towards the cabinets. She didn't notice someone else was in her way until she collided into them.

***

Draco's eyes had adjusted enough to see what he was doing, but he'd been so absorbed in the task of peeling his apple (he could never eat apple skin – it just irritated him for some reason) that he hadn't heard her come in. And then when she bumped into him he dropped the knife back on to the counter with a clatter.

Ginny let out a long, loud scream.

Annoyed, Draco clapped his hand over her mouth, silencing her. He knew it was her – he could tell by the fiery hair that fell past her shoulders – but she obviously didn't know it was him. He grabbed her arm with his free hand and she struggled to get free.

"Shh," he hissed crossly. "It's only . . ."

She jerked back with a surprising amount of strength. But he had such a grip on her arm that she pulled him with her, and he stepped on the hem of her nightgown in stumbling after her. She lost her footing and fell down on to her back, and once again she managed to drag him along. He landed right on top of her, and felt the _whoosh_ of her breath on his face when he did. 

It took them both a few seconds to realize what had happened, and when they did, Draco made no attempt to move. ". . . me," he finished, grinning lazily at her.

Ginny's heart began to pound harder when she realized that he was not wearing a shirt – just a cape thrown over his shoulders and fastened at the base of his throat. His head was so close to hers his longish silver hair was brushing her cheek, and his eyes seem to glitter in what pale light there was. 

Ginny forced herself to speak. "Get off me, Malfoy," she said rather shrilly.

Surprisingly, he obeyed, and was on his feet in less than a second. She sat up and waited for him to offer his hand to help her, but he had turned back to the counter and was finishing his apple skinning. Muttering under her breath, she stood up herself, heart still pounding from both the scare and Draco's body being so close against hers. 

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he shot back. "I was hungry. So I came here to eat."

"At three in the morning?"

He turned back to face her, leaning back against the edge of the counter and nonchalantly taking a bite into his apple. He spoke with his mouth full. "Oh, so I don't have a reason to be here and you do?"

"It _is_ my castle," she pointed out. Watching him eat was beginning to make her stomach feel empty. "Where did you get that?"

"It's the last one," he told her vaguely, and returned to the earlier subject. "This castle is as much yours as it is mine. In fact, when we get married, it _will_ be mine. The king gets everything, not the queen."

She felt a bit queasy. "I expect to be gone before we get married," she replied. 

"Gone where? You running away?" Even in the dark, she could see him smirking.

"You know where," she snapped. "The future."

"You know how to get back?"

"No," she admitted, "but I'll find a way."

Then the only sound was Draco crunching loudly on his apple, and Ginny felt embarrassed at the silence. Finally, Draco said, "So are you just going to leave me here?"

The question caught her off guard. "Huh?"

"You said that _you_ expect to be gone before our wedding," he reminded her, no longer smirking. His expression was unreadable. "Does that mean that you will go and I'll just stay here?"

"Well," she said slowly, "I don't know."

"Wonderful," he said dryly, and started towards the door. Ginny knew he was leaving, and was slightly annoyed he didn't even bother to apologize for scaring her or saying goodnight. 

"Malfoy," she called after him.

He did not turn, but he stopped halfway to the door. 

"If I find a way back, I'll be sure that you come back with me," she said, and blushed furiously. For once she welcomed the dark.

And then something flew back at her, and it bounced off her chest. She just barely managed to catch it in her hands. It was wet and lumpy . . .

"You can have the rest," Draco said, causing her to look up at him. He had opened the door and was glancing over his shoulder, smirking broadly at her.

She looked back down at what was in her hands. Shocked, she looked back up to see that he had disappeared.

He had given her his half-eaten apple core.

A/N: Ha ha, I know, kinda nasty, isn't it? But in a way it's sweet, too. Anyway, I don't have much time to thank people right now but I do want to thank Christine (aka Draco's Lover) for helping me with my grammar mistakes. Now I'm late for school so I better go!


	5. Civilized Conversations

6 pt 6 pt 0 0 Disclaimer: JK Rowling _Chapter Five __ __Civilized Conversations _

To Ginny's ultimate disappointment, when she woke up the next morning, it was to Maria shaking her out of sleep. She was still in her large, antique room and she was still wearing the long white nightgown she'd gone to bed in. She was still a princess living back in the seventeenth century.

    And she was still getting married to Draco.

    She nearly moaned out loud when she thought of him. Remembering last night, at how she'd immediately thrown out the apple core he'd given her, made her head pound and her stomach flutter at the same time. A thought that had kept her awake nearly the rest of the night had been, _Why did he take so long to get up off me?_

    Of course, it was probably because he was just trying to get her annoyed with him. For some reason it'd had the exact opposite reaction on her – she'd wanted to stay underneath him, her chest crushed beneath his, his thighs pressed against hers . . .

    She shivered like she'd gotten a sudden chill, but Maria was looking down and sliding Ginny's slippers onto her feet and didn't notice.

    They both stood up at the same time, and Maria smiled warmly up at her (Ginny being nearly a head taller). "Majesty Draco wasn't all that terrible yesterday, was he?" she asked, her grin turning somewhat mischievous.

    Ginny thought briefly. Yes, it had been pretty terrible, considering he was still his nasty, arrogant self. That he was the only one she could talk to about what a mess they were in, and how they were to escape it. But she just shrugged at Maria without saying anything.

    She was still smiling knowingly as she dressed Ginny in a rather simple dress of light blue. This time Ginny did her own hair, though she ended up leaving most of it down, only pinning some strands up so they wouldn't fall in an unruly mass into her face. Staring at the mirror, pretending to be busy with her hair, she thought deeply.

    This was not a one-day thing. So what did that mean? She'd known from the beginning it wasn't a dream. And it wasn't like someone used a Time-Turner on her because there was no way possible that she could have come back into the _real_ past and been a princess everyone knew. It was just impossible.

    What if she was here long enough to actually marry Draco? Could she somehow weasel her way out of the marriage? 

    _No_. She frowned at her reflection. _The way our "parents" were talking last night at lunch . . ._ _they want us to be wed too much for them to even consider calling off the marriage. I couldn't convince them to call off the wedding._

    She contemplated running away. But where would that get her? Everyone would be looking for her – there wouldn't be any place safe. Not to mention if she was trying to keep her face hidden from the world she would never be able to find out how to get to the future again. 

    _I also so much as promised that I'd come back with Malfoy_, she thought glumly. _God, how embarrassing. I can't believe I said that._

    Breakfast was much like lunch had been the previous day. Ginny concentrated on eating, lost in her own thoughts. She was tired of worrying about her betrothal to Draco, so she fixed her mind on the dilemma with Harry. 

    How could she fix their relationship when she didn't know what happened? All she knew was that it had to do with Lily's death. And if she hadn't killed her, then why did Harry hate her so much?

    Her thoughts were cut into when one of the maids bustled into the dining room, out of breath.

    "Majesties," she said quickly, "there's been an emergency. You are needed."

    Somehow, her parents and Draco's dad knew exactly which "majesties" the maid was talking to. Ginny's parents stood up immediately and followed the maid out, leaving Elle, Draco, Edward, and her alone at the table. It was silent for a long time, an awkward silence that seemed to ring in Ginny's ears.

    Finally, breakfast ended, and Ginny went to find Maria. When she did, Maria had no idea what the emergency was. Frustrated and curious, Ginny went into her room.

    _What did people do for entertainment during this time?_ she wondered hotly, staring at the portrait of herself on the wall. She was annoyed that she didn't know what was going on with Harry, that she didn't know what the emergency was, and that it seemed impossible that she could ever get back to the future.

    Time trickled by slowly. Ginny found a very boring, very confusing book to attempt to read, but she couldn't concentrate on it. She was seriously debating on whether or not to go and find Draco just so she could have something to do by fighting with him when Maria came in.

    Ginny sat up quickly on her bed, setting the book aside. "What happened?" she asked eagerly.

    "There has been a mass murder," Maria said soberly. "A family of ten was found slaughtered in their home this morning."

    "What?" Ginny felt very cold. She stood up and crossed the room to Maria. "How were they killed?"

    "The murderer used a knife," she replied, wiping at her eyes. "The youngest was only two years old."

    "Who did it?" Ginny nearly shrieked.

    "We don't know yet," Maria replied, sniffling and then throwing back her shoulders. "Now, come along, it's time for tea. You'll be having yours with Highness Draco."

    Ginny, forcing the murder issue to the back of her mind, tried not to groan. "Alone?" she asked.

    Maria forced a wavering smile. "Would you rather learn to like him before you get married, or after?" she shot back.

    They left her room and started to walk slowly down the hall, side by side. "Neither," Ginny said stubbornly. "I don't want to like him. He's horrible."

    "If you forgive me for saying so, Majesty, but you are making a bigger deal out of this than need be," Maria said. "He really is a good person. Deep down."

    "_Very_ deep down," Ginny muttered, rolling her eyes. "So deep, in fact, we may never see a good Dra – uh, Malfoy."

    Maria raised her eyebrows questionably at Ginny's reference to him but didn't say anything. 

    When Ginny arrived in the room where they were to have tea together, Draco wasn't there yet. Maria left to get him and Ginny sat down at the table that could only seat two people, one across from the other. It was a drafty room, and she was beginning to wish she had a warm teacup in which she could wrap her hands around. But the tea hadn't been served yet, and probably wouldn't be until Draco came.

    He arrived five minutes later, which was a rather long time to sit and do nothing. Along with him came Maria carrying a tray of tea, sugar, and milk. Draco sat down heavily across from Ginny, and while Maria distributed the tea things, neither of them spoke. When she left, there was a long silence while Ginny prepared herself a cup, and Draco watched her.

    Without looking up, she asked, "What?"

    She could almost hear him smirking. "I don't like tea."

    Startled, she looked up and met his eyes. Though he was sneering, it was obvious he was telling the truth. "You don't?"

    "Didn't I just say I didn't?"

    "You're weird," she said, leaning back in her seat with her cup. "Everyone likes tea."

    "Everyone as in everyone you know? Well, I've got news for you, Weasley, you don't know everybody."

    "Thanks, Draco, I honestly didn't know that."

    There was another stretch of silence and Ginny wasn't sure what it was for. She stared down at her tea, and then her words hit her. _Oh, God, I just called him by his first name!_ Her eyes flew up to meet his, and she couldn't read his expression, which annoyed her to no end. 

    Embarrassed, and blushing under his gaze, she quickly added more sugar to her tea, even though there was already so much in it all of the crystals couldn't dissolve. 

    "So," Draco finally broke the silence. "Have you discovered a way to get us out of here?"

    She narrowed her eyes at him. "Overnight? No, I haven't."

    "Oh yes, I forgot," Draco smirked, "you're a Gryffindor. Gryffindors can't come up with decent plans even if their lives depended on it."

    "Then why don't you think of something!" Ginny snapped defensively. "I don't hear you suggesting anything."

    "That's because I'm beginning to believe there is nothing we can do," he replied simply, crossing his arms. "_We_ didn't bring ourselves here. How can _we_ bring ourselves back?"

    Ginny bit her lower lip and thought for a moment. "Maria mentioned a lady that is magic," she recalled. "Maybe she could tell us something."

    "She's probably a fake," Draco muttered.

    "Who, Maria?"

    "I don't know who the hell Maria is, so how could I be referring to her?" Draco snapped.

    "Sorry. If I had known you were going to bite my head off I would've kept my mouth shut."

    "That's the smartest thing I think you've ever said, Weasley."

    "What's up your ass?" she demanded, setting her cup on the table. He opened his mouth to reply, already sneering, but she cut him off. "Besides me," she said darkly.

    "Nothing else." Draco gave her a lopsided grin. Ginny was slightly surprised – she rarely ever saw him grin, just smirk or sneer. "Just you."

    "Thank you," she said sarcastically. "Now do you think we could have a civilized conversation for once?"

    "I don't think so. I've never had one civilized conversation with a Weasley before."

    "Well you've never spoken to _me_ before," she declared fiercely. 

    "And I'm beginning to wish I hadn't."

    Ginny glared at him for a long moment, frustrated beyond belief. He had to be the most annoying human being on the planet. _And I'm fortunate enough to be stuck with him_, she thought furiously. "Did you hear why my, uh, _parents_ left during breakfast this morning?" she asked. This topic was sure to cause him to be serious, or at least get her mind off how irritating he was.

    "No, and you know what? I could care less."

    "Ten people were murdered," she told him anyway. "One of them was a two-year-old child."

    Draco stared at her for a moment, his face once again unreadable. "That's terrible," he said without much feeling. "But I remember clearly stating that I don't care."

    Her eyes widened. _How can someone be so heartless? _she wondered. "You bloody . . . insufferable . . ." she sputtered, unable to find the words that described him.

    "I could sit here, drink tea, and have civilized conversations with you all day, Weasley," he said rather pleasantly, standing up. "But I'm afraid I'd rather perform the Cruciatus Curse on myself."

    She stood up so she was closer to his eye level. He wasn't really so much taller than her, and Ginny had always wanted to marry someone nearly a head taller, someone who could pick her up in his arms and carry her to bed . . . _Which is yet another reason why I can't marry Malfoy_, she thought, glowering at him. He stared at her, an amused smile on his lips, and made no attempt to leave.

    "We'll be divorced in a month," he said.

    "We're not going to get married!" she exclaimed, and then felt a little stupid at her outburst. She lowered her voice and continued. "As I've stated before, I hope to be back at Hogwarts by the time Christmas comes."

    "Good luck," he said. He turned and started to walk towards the door. Ginny's eyes followed him, narrowed angrily.

    "Do you _want_ us to get married?!" she shrieked, her patience lost. "Is that what you want? Is that why you just _don't care?_"

    He spun around, halfway to the door. Ginny could tell she had angered him; his eyes were considerably darker. "Of course I _care_. I don't want to marry you. This whole situation is fucking _ridiculous_. But there's nothing I can do about it. So why should I sit here and whine about it like _you_ are doing?"

    How could she have ever enjoyed having him on top of her? Now she wanted to hit him. She wanted to hit him so bad her fingers curled in anticipation. But he was halfway across the room, and could easily crush her. Just because she was nearly as tall as him didn't mean she was stronger. With that look in his eyes, causing them to darken from steel gray to ash gray, he looked capable of anything, angry enough to do anything. She felt some of her own frustrations melt away into something close to fear, but she knew she couldn't be afraid of Draco Malfoy. She wouldn't allow herself to be.

    He finally ripped his gaze from hers and turned, stalking the rest of the way to the door. When his back was to her, and she could no longer see his expression, she felt braver. "I hate you!" she screamed, aware of how childish she was being and not caring. "Go to hell, Malfoy!"

    He slammed the door without even so much as acknowledging that he'd heard her. Ginny dropped back into her seat, so angry and frustrated she could scream. _If I don't calm down soon I'll end up ripping out my hair_, she thought, breathing hard. 

    But she couldn't calm down. Everything was so hopeless and maddening . . . she was marrying someone she couldn't stand to look at, she didn't have anyone to complain to, she didn't know how to get back to her normal time, and the one person she hoped she could speak with couldn't stand to look at _her_. 

    All the anger bubbled up inside her until she couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed her teacup and flung it at the door with a short scream. Even though he was already out of hearing distance, she shouted again, "I _hate_ you!" 

    The cup shattered into many pieces and dropped to the floor, tea splattered on the door. Ginny stared at it for a moment, then stood up and hurried out of the room, not bothering to clean up the mess she'd made. Who cared if it would give the servants something else to hate her for, cleaning up the mess of a cup she'd purposely broken, she just needed to get out of the castle before she went insane.

    She didn't bother to get a cloak; she went right outside to the gardens. The cold felt marvelous on her flushed cheeks, and being out of the stuffy, confined castle made her feel a great deal calmer. Crunching through the snow, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest and stared down. She was wearing small high-heeled shoes, and snow seeped in, but once again she didn't care.

    The tears she had been holding for the past twenty-four hours finally came. She let them drip off her face, not bothering to wipe them away. 

    She spent a lot of time out there, walking and not really seeing any of the dormant plants that made up the gardens. When she finally decided to go back inside she felt much better, even calm, despite the fact her feet, nose, and fingers were frozen stiff. 

    Ginny returned to her room and lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She knew soon it would be lunch time, and then she'd have to face Draco again.

    She was dreading it.

A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short. Hopefully the next one will be longer, happier, and have some action!

Thanks to:

**Christine **(what would I do without you?), **w&m_law, Melissa Belial Riddle, DarkKnight, kitty, Silveray, Archer, Tigre, Josephine, Flaming Ashes, pyrobunnie, CC, Draco no Jikan, legally blonde, Nice **(no, not exactly. This is a world that doesn't exist…oh, you'll find out what's going on soon enough), **Sarah, FeatherQuill **(hmm, I might….), **Rose Black, FireSprite, Your Worst Nightmare, Lime Green Combat Boots, ~*Skya*~, noni, Lily Shouk, GryffinGirl, BabBlgirl, Zoemma, PigwidgeonChick, Joc **(good point :-)), **stargoddess, starlight, Calender-Chan, tabby cat0102, Hermione Potter, Audrey, Lavender James, audig, Alienchick **(I agree, snogs would be good! Maybe if they could stop BICKERING long enough…;)), **Dot **(nope, I'm actually working on this one by myself).


	6. The Truth About Harry

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to JK Rowling. Chapter Six _The Truth About Harry _

After Ginny changed into dry clothes with Maria's help, she went down to lunch. Elle was the only one who attended the meal with her and Draco. Ginny kept her eyes on her plate the whole time, an awkward silence hanging in the air.

    She was still furious at Draco. If they were ever going to manage to get married without killing each other, then _he_ would have to apologize first. Because she had been nothing but nice to him, and he'd been the one acting like a jerk.

    Elle noticed the tension between them, and tried to strike up a conversation with Draco. When he kept giving her short answers, she turned to Ginny and asked her what she knew about the wedding.

    For the first time, Ginny raised her eyes to look at Elle. _She looks a lot like Draco,_ she noticed. _Except warmer. Kinder._

"I would really not like to talk about the wedding right now, Elle," she said softly.

    Elle's face visibly fell, and the hurt look in her pale gray eyes made Ginny feel slightly guilty. But she really was not in the mood to talk about the wedding, and returned to her food, pretending not to have noticed.

    Draco left the table as soon as he was done without a word, leaving Ginny and Elle alone. Elle watched him leave, almost wistfully, and turned back to her plate, her sadness etched on her features.

    Feeling bad for her, Ginny asked, "Do you know anything about the servants here?" She realized it was an odd question, for Elle gave her a queer look, but at least she was making conversation. And she wanted to see if Elle knew anything about Lily Potter and her death, or if she knew why Harry was so loathsome towards her.

    "Not really," Elle answered slowly. "Why?"

    "Just wondering," Ginny said, shrugging. Then she tried a different tactic. "Has anything tragic like this ever happened before?"

    "Like _what_?" Elle demanded, sounding a bit annoyed that she couldn't understand what Ginny was getting at.

    Ginny suddenly figured that Elle didn't know about the murdered family. Feeling quite stupid, she pretended to be busy buttering her bread. Hastily she changed the subject. "What do you want to know about the wedding?"

    Elle instantly forgot about what Ginny was trying to say before and brightened. "What sort of dress are you wearing?"

    The truth was Ginny didn't know. "I haven't decided yet," she lied.

    "Haven't decided yet? The wedding is less than three weeks away!"

    For another thirty minutes, Ginny uncomfortably sat there and tried to answer questions about her wedding. With a pang of sadness she realized she knew nothing about how she was going to marry Draco. She knew that it was already all planned out, and that made her a little angry, too. She'd always imagined planning her own wedding, along with her mother and Hermione (who had married Ron merely weeks after they graduated from Hogwarts) and her future husband. 

    _Imagine planning my wedding with Malfoy_, she thought with a silent shudder. _He would look out of place among all the colorful flowers and the pink curtained altar I plan to have. _

    Ginny managed to excuse herself from Elle's questions by saying that she had to attend to something. The truth was she didn't have anything to do. It was so _boring_ being a princess. _Couldn't it at least be warm outside?_ she wondered bitterly. _Instead it's got to be freezing and snowy. Well, at least it matches my mood._

    For a while, Ginny wandered around the castle. By now she had a pretty good idea of the place she lived in and knew her way around well enough. 

    _What are princesses supposed to do in their spare time?_ Ginny thought. She'd read many books about royalty, but she never really paid much attention at how they spent their extra time. Surely they had a lot of it, since most were schooled only a few hours a week and didn't have to do chores. Most of the heroines in the books always did things outside, such as rendezvousing with the poor stable boy because she was in love with him, or riding horses and meeting prince charming in a field of wild flowers. 

    But all of that took place outside. Ginny was cooped up inside and had nothing to do except walk around. Then there was the constant idea that she might run into Draco, which she didn't want to do.

    Finally, she decided on going to find Harry. _I'll make him trust me_, she decided. _I'll gain his friendship, and then maybe he'll tell me why he hates me so much now._

    A few minutes of searching the castle brought her to the library, where she heard the sound of Harry's voice. Sticking her head in, she saw him, standing on a ladder that was leaning against the shelf across the large room. Beside him, on another ladder, was his father. They had their backs to her, and were in the process of pulling books off the shelves and opening and slamming them shut to get the dust off. Ginny, unnoticed by them, watched for a moment, thinking, _What a dull job that must be._

    They were chatting together casually, and Ginny noticed with a twinge – of what? Jealousy? Longing? – that when Harry turned his head so she could see his profile and glanced at his father, he was had that happy, contented look. The look he had whenever he caught the Snitch and won the Quidditch match. The look he rarely gave anyone even as his future self. The look that Ginny wished he'd give her. He clearly was happy with his father, and he really was a good person in this world. Something had just happened that caused him to be hard to some people, or specifically, herself. 

    As she watched, her heart pounding painfully, Harry slammed the book shut, shooting dust into his face. He sneezed so violently his glasses slipped off his nose. James Potter just managed to reach out and grab them before they fell the few feet to the floor and probably would've broken. He grinned in relief, still not noticing Ginny in the doorway even though all he had to do was look up and see her across the room, and turned back towards the shelves. 

    "Thank you, Father," Harry said in an old-fashioned way that made Ginny want to giggle. He made a reach for his glasses, but his father held them up and out of his grasp. "Father!" he said exasperatedly, though he was smiling. "Give them to me!"

    But James held them above his own head, laughing at Harry's attempt to get them. He tried jumping slightly, but the fear of falling off the ladder only got him a few inches high. In seconds they were both laughing helplessly, though Harry tried to stay serious.

    "You know I cannot see a thing without them," he moaned. 

    Their laughter filled the room, and Ginny felt so sad she could cry. _Maybe this world is better for Harry_, she thought. _Being a servant and having one parent is better than being a famous wizard orphan, isn't it?_

    Ginny felt a hot surge of anger when she thought of all that future Harry had been deprived off. It just wasn't _fair_. In this world she was screwed, with two people who were supposed to be her parents and filthy rich, and she was getting married to Draco Malfoy. And yet, Harry had a parent and was somewhat happy, and there was no Voldemort. Or at least as far as she knew.

    _Which world is better?_ she wondered, watching as James handed his son the glasses and they returned to their task. _The future world is better for me, but this world is better for Harry. Do I really want to go back and see Harry parentless again?_

    Yet that's where things got weird. This servant boy looked like Harry Potter and had his name, but he didn't act like him and didn't have his life style. If not for their looks and names Ginny would've sworn they were two totally different people. So for all she knew there still was a Harry Potter that would be born in the future, a totally different person who just managed to have the same face and name as someone from four hundred years before. Even though that was highly unlikely, it _was_ possible.

    _But this isn't the right world!_ Ginny realized. _If this actually happened, then how come I've never heard of any medieval princesses named Virginia Weasley marrying a prince named Draco Malfoy? I mean, our names aren't very common, and surely someone would have read about it in history books (such as Hermione) and brought it up. If this world is real, then I would've heard about it before. Not to mention Muggles have never known about magical people, and Maria told me herself that she knows about magic, and that there is a magic person in the town. It's all highly unlikely._

    That still didn't clear things up. So the world was fake and never happened – where did that leave her? In the same place except it was twice as scary because the place obviously doesn't exist.

    She sighed loudly, not realizing she'd done so noisily until Harry and James were both twisted around at the waist to stare at her. Feeling a blush creep up her cheeks, she racked her brain for something intelligent to say. Since James was around she didn't feel comfortable asking to talk with Harry. Not after the way he'd given her that look in the kitchen the day before. 

    "I was just…looking for a book," she managed to say somewhat normally, turning and walking to the nearest shelf at her right. She took a random book off the shelf and flipped through it. Squinting at it, she wondered if she had it upside down. After flipping it around, she suddenly realized it was written in Latin. _Oh, well, that explains it_, she thought, feeling sort of idiotic.

    She replaced the book and scanned the titles of the others. _Am I on the Latin shelf or something?_ she wondered. _Does anyone write in English?!_

    Ginny noticed that Harry and James had become silent, and when she glanced over her shoulder at them she saw Harry had been staring at her out of the corner of his eye. When she met his gaze, she blinked and instantly he was back to dusting the books like nothing had happened.

    _He's suspicious of me_, Ginny figured. _He doesn't trust me. They both don't trust me._

    A few minutes later, she finally found one book that was written in English. Though the cover title was written in such flowing script it was hard to make out what it was called. It looked like Oveelo Fhiiorophy, but the inside text was in English, so she concluded that it had to be something else. Perhaps it was a name. 

    She needed to speak with Harry, but it looked as if he and his father would be dusting books all day. _No matter_, Ginny thought, walking to one of the three chaise lounges that were in the middle of the library. _I'll just sit here and read Oveelo Fhiiorophy for a while._

    Neither of them said anything when they realized she would be staying in the library, but she could've sworn she heard either James or Harry click is tongue in annoyance.

    Oveelo Fhiiorophy was hard to understand, but a few pages into the book Ginny finally understood what the title was. It wasn't Oveelo Fhiiorophy but _Greek Philosophy._ Proud that she managed to recognize the title, she resumed reading, and tried to enjoy it. 

* * *

Draco was in a foul mood. No matter what he did he couldn't raise his spirits. He even snapped irritably at Elle when she kept asking him questions about what was wrong, fluttering around him like an annoying fly. When she scurried away from him, near tears, it only caused his mood to worsen.

    _Even as a prince my life sucks_, he thought, lying on his bed in his room and staring at the top of the canopy. It was what he used to do a lot back in Hogwarts when he was angry. Staying away from people was best when he was pissed. But the only thing that was bad was that it gave him way too much time to think and recall things, things that had made him mad in the first place.

    And in this case, those "things" included Ginny Weasley.

    There was something about her that just grated his nerves. Maybe it was her optimism, the way she always looked hopeful whenever he first saw her. _To her, _Draco thought bitterly, _everything is probably rainbows and sunshine. And it will come as a shock when she finds out it's full of poison and rain. _

    Another thing was the way she spoke to him. As if she were trying to change him. As if she _could_ change him. He couldn't really explain why he thought this, but it was just her manner. The way she spoke to him was like she wanted to mold him into what she wanted him to be, what she wanted her husband to be. Her _husband_ should like tea. Her _husband_ should care about ten people getting murdered. _Then her _husband_ should be Harry fucking Potter_, Draco thought furiously. 

    For the first time in his life, Draco felt himself longing to be home. Back in his huge, cold manor where his biggest problem was whether or not to have breakfast in bed or go downstairs and eat with his mother. Hell, he would be happy even if he were back in Hogwarts, worrying about how to beat Potter at Quidditch. Anything seemed better in the situation he was in now. Because he knew how to handle all those previous situations. He'd eat with his mother or not – it wasn't a big deal. And so what if he lost to Potter – didn't he always?

    But here he was slightly unsure about everything. Like why he was even here in the first place. Or if he would ever get back. 

    The most confusing thing of all, though, was how despite the fact that Ginny got on his nerves constantly and always was a pain, he still couldn't help but think about how beautiful she was and how wonderful it would be to run his fingers through her hair.

    It was thoughts like that that got him even angrier, though mostly with himself, and he forced himself to think of all the bad points in Ginny Weasley.

* * *

Ginny sat there reading the Greek Philosophy book until dinnertime, annoyed that it took Harry and James so long to dust the books. Of course, she knew she was being unfair, since the library was as big as The Burrow was and it would probably take them a few days to complete their task. But she was irritated nonetheless, and went to dinner in a bad mood.

    Once again, Elle, Draco, and herself were the only ones who ate at the enormous table. This time Elle chatted up a storm, talking to anyone who would listen instead of asking questions of them individually.

    This time, Ginny left the minute that she finished eating, and returned to the library. She nearly moaned in frustration when she saw that James and Harry were still side by side, dusting books.

    "Don't you ever _eat_?" she demanded shrilly.

    They turned and stared at her. Ginny felt exasperated with herself. _I'm a princess! I can order James to go away!_ _So what if he doesn't like it, he's a servant!_

    She knew she was being mean, but she found herself saying, "Um . . . James? Could you fetch my parents for me, please?"

    He scowled at her. "If you forgive me, Highness, but your parents are in the village."

    "Yes. I know," Ginny said innocently. _That's why I want you to get them. So you'll be gone for a while._

    "With all due respect, perhaps you could find someone else to fetch them? We need to finish this" – he gestured at the bookshelves – "before we retire for tonight." His voice was hard, cold, and he stared at her with an expressionless face.

    She felt terrible, ordering him around when he didn't deserve it. But she needed to talk with Harry, and she had a feeling if she said so James wouldn't leave. She couldn't speak to him with his father around.

    "Please," she said with a note of firmness.

    James kept his face blank, but she could almost feel the anger radiating from him. "Yes, Your Highness."

    He glanced at Harry, and Ginny couldn't help but notice the look that they shared, and then he got down off the ladder. Ginny stepped into the room to get out of the doorway, and he passed by her without another word.

    _He sure is brave_, she thought. _He's visibly mean to me. I could tell my parents and have him thrown out. Of course, I would never do such a thing, but I could. You'd think he'd _pretend_ to be nice to me._

    She waited until his footsteps faded before she turned back to Harry.

    He had his back to her again, dusting the books. Now he was using a rag to wipe all the dust off, which Ginny thought was a smarter way then opening and slamming the book covers.

    Ginny stepped rather cautiously closer to him. She wrung her fingers nervously. "Harry?"

    "Yes, Highness," he said, sighing and lowering the book. He didn't turn his head.

    "May I speak to you?"

    "Of course, Highness." She could hint the barely noticeable sarcasm and bitterness in his tone as he replaced the book, got down from the ladder, and turned to face her.

    "You can tell your father," she said softly, "that he won't have to finish dusting these books. You don't either. I'll have someone else do it."

    His face remained hard, but his eyes softened slightly. "Thank you Highness." He didn't sound very thankful.

    "And you can apologize to him for me," she said, daring a smile, "for sending him after my parents. Because I only wanted to talk to you alone."

    "So you sent him out for no reason." His dull and accusing tone was like a slap in her face. 

    She had not expected it, and she mouthed noiselessly for a minute. "Well…no, not exactly…"

    He smirked then, a smirk that reminded her so much of Draco it was almost frightening. _Oh, God, Harry, why do you hate me so much? What did I do to you?_

    She hadn't realized she'd spoken the words out loud until Harry laughed, rather hollowly. A blush crept up her neck and she felt embarrassed that she'd actually said what she was thinking.

    "What did you do to me?" he repeated. "You only took my mother away from me."

    Ginny felt as if the whole room had tipped to the side, and she found it hard to stand. Her head spinning, she sputtered, "But Maria said…she told me that I didn't kill her…"

    "_You_ didn't kill her," he said venomously. 

    Ginny tried to swallow the lump in her throat. _I didn't kill her. Then why does he hate me? _"Then what did I do?" she whispered, praying that her tears wouldn't surface and reveal her feelings.

    Harry just shook his head. "If this is all you want to talk to me about, Highness, I'd rather not. I have other duties I must attend to –"

    "_No._" Even she was surprised by the firmness in her voice. "Don't leave until you tell me why you act so hateful towards me. I won't let you leave."

    "But you _know_ why!" he spat defensively. 

    "I do not!" she shot back hotly. He glared at her so coldly that it seemed to freeze her blood, and she felt chilled. "Tell me _why_, Harry Potter. Just because you think I know doesn't mean I do. I'm not the person you think I am."

    "You're _exactly_ the person I think you are," he hissed. "Just like your parents. I hope that whoever murdered that family today murders you, too. And I hope it's painful and slow, because people like you and your family deserve to die slowly and then rot in hell."

     And then he stormed by her and out of the library, leaving her standing there, unable to breathe, unable to move. Tears filled her eyes so quickly that she didn't have to blink for them to fall down her cheeks. Then, her legs were no longer able to support her, and she sat down hard on the floor. Then she grabbed a handful of her skirt, which was poofed around her because of all the lacy petticoats she was wearing, and began to sob into it. 

    She didn't want to sob like a baby, because she knew it was ridiculous and childish, but she couldn't help it. Those words Harry had said to her … they were worse than any insult Malfoy had ever thrown at her. They were worse because she loved Harry, even this past Harry, and every horrible word was like a knife in her chest. 

    Ginny cried for a long time. When she finally had cried all her tears out, she fell onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, feeling numb. Everything was so wrong! This world _wasn't_ right, no matter how happy Harry was with his father. No matter how wonderful Maria was, or how adorable Elle was, or how rich Ginny was. She found herself longing for her old ratty house, wishing for the familiar sounds of the family ghoul overhead, making the most obnoxious noises possible. 

    But none of it came, and the already low sun disappeared, casting the library into dark shadows. And Ginny remained on the floor, staring dully upwards, the air hanging around her. She'd never felt so alone, so desperate in her life. Even during her first year, when she'd been used by Tom Riddle to do terrible things and she didn't know what was happening to her, there was always the distant comfort that she _could_ tell someone if she found the courage. But here, she couldn't talk to anyone. No one would understand, for even though Maria was understanding, she would think Ginny was crazy if she began claim she was from the future. The only one who could begin to understand was Draco Malfoy, and she would rather eat dirt than pour her heart out to him.

    _"I hope whoever murdered that family today murders you, too."_ Harry's voice came swirling back into her head, and it caused Ginny to blink in realization. Could it be that _Harry_ was the one who'd murdered those ten people?

    _No_. She hurried to dismiss the idea. _He couldn't have. Harry may be a little…depressed and have some anger problems, but he's not a homicidal killer. _

    Still, what an odd thing to say to someone who was royalty.

    Ginny wasn't sure how long she laid there, but after a while the sounds of footsteps and the muffled voices of servants began to disappear, until the castle was cloaked in silence. Finally, she forced herself to stand up and leave the library. 

    When she returned to her room, Maria was there, sitting on the bed. She stood up when Ginny entered, hurrying over to her with a stern look on her face.

    "Where have you been?" she demanded. "It's nearly midnight. I've been worried out of my mind – I thought that you might've left the castle and with that murderer still on the loose –"

    "I was in the library," Ginny interrupted dully.

    Maria looked startled. "Oh. Well, no wonder no one was able to find you. Who would've thought you actually went into the library."

    "What do you mean?"

    "You despise reading," Maria stated simply. "Now, come on, let's get you into bed…"

    _For someone who's known me my whole life,_ Ginny thought as she allowed herself to be undressed, _Maria sure can't tell when I'm depressed, can she?_

    Ginny got into bed and Maria began tucking the blankets around her. 

    "What happened to Lily Potter?" Ginny asked suddenly.

    Maria paused, then proceeded to fluff the pillows behind Ginny's head, avoiding her eyes. "She's dead, my dear."

    "I know that," she snapped, irritable. "How did she die?"

    "If you can't remember then I'm not the one who should be telling you this," Maria said, patting the top of Ginny's head. Then she turned and started to leave. 

    Ginny sat up in bed, determined to find out what was wrong before she would lay back down again. "Then who should tell me? My parents?"

    Maria stopped short halfway to the door. Then she turned, sadness visible in her onyx eyes. "I wish you wouldn't worry about it," she said quietly. "It happened years ago…"

    "_Tell me!_" Ginny shrieked. She was through being nice. If being kind got her nowhere then she'd be firm, and even mean if she had to be.

    Maria's shoulders fell, and she returned to Ginny's bed and sat on the side next to her. "You were only five when it happened," she said, her eyes turning watery and making Ginny feel extremely guilty for how she'd been treating her. "But I thought you knew…"

    "I forgot," Ginny whispered.

    Maria sighed, straightening, and wiped at her eyes. "Everyone loved Lily. All the servants, I mean. She was beautiful and bright and always kept our spirits up. She married James and then they had a son, the perfect family. I have to admit even I was envious of them, because the three of them looked so perfect together, so contented…" She broke off and had to wipe her eyes again. "Lily was a dear friend. A good friend."

    Though Ginny was dying to hear where this was going, she remained patient and waited for Maria to continue, allowing her to take her time.

    "Your father, I think, was jealous," Maria went on, sniffling and looking above Ginny's head at the wall behind her. "He always was a womanizer…still is, come to think of it. One day he demanded to see Lily and…"

    Ginny had a suddenly horrible feeling of what Maria was going to say next. While she waited for Maria to control herself, she could feel a huge knot in her stomach forming and had trouble swallowing. 

    "Of course, afterwards Lily wasn't as happy and glowing as she'd been before. A bunch of people tried to ask her what was wrong, including me and her husband, but she'd always give us a tired smile and say, 'Nothing. I'm fine.' But turns out she wasn't fine, because a few weeks later she told James that she was pregnant again. Only it wasn't his child."

    "Oh God," Ginny breathed. She gripped a handful of blankets in her hands, her knuckles turning white. Her heart was jerking painfully, and the knot in her stomach was tightening. She felt as if she were going to be sick.

    "James was angry." Then Maria laughed emptily. "If there was ever an understatement for what James was feeling, it's anger. No one had ever seen him so…so _furious_ before. He was positively livid when he confronted the king, your father. He confronted him right in front of your mother, and when your mother heard your father confess to ravishing Lily _she_ became mad as well. Only not at James or your father, but at Lily herself. As if _Lily_ had gotten herself pregnant with the queen's husband's baby. 

    "Two days later, Lily disappeared. A few of the servants thought she ran away, but I didn't believe it. She had a husband and a six-year-old son, and she was pregnant. Even if the father of her child was horrid, she still wanted it. Lily had told me so herself, saying it _was_ her baby, too."

    "What happened?" Ginny asked, still gripping the blankets. "What happened to her?"

    "A few days later she was found," Maria said, her blank eyes fixed on Ginny's. "In the forest near the castle. She'd been shot with arrows. About a dozen of them."

    Ginny felt all the blood drain from her face. Her hand flew up to clamp over her mouth and she tried to swallow the wave of dizziness and sickness she felt. 

    "Though it was never proven," Maria continued in her dull tone, "it was obvious that your mother arranged it. For the arrows were the ones that castle guards use."

    _No wonder Harry hates me!_ Ginny thought, closing her eyes tightly. _I'd hate me, too, if I were him! How terrible…he's right, my parents _do_ deserve to rot in hell. _

    "Is that why he hates me?" Ginny whispered, slowly removing her hand from her mouth but keeping her eyes shut. 

    "Who?" Maria's warm, chubby hand engulfed Ginny's comfortingly.

    "Harry." She opened her eyes and stared at Maria. "Is that why Harry hates me? Because of what my parents did to his mum?"

    "Well look at it from his point of view," Maria said rather quickly. "Your father humiliated his mother, your mother killed her. And now suddenly _you_ keep wanting to talk to him when you've always treated him like…well, to be honest, Highness, you've treated him terribly before. He probably reckons there's some catch –"

    "How did I treat him before?" Ginny asked, straightening. "Tell me how I treated him."

    Maria stared at her. "My dear, sometimes you worry me. How can you not remember anything?"

    "Just please tell me."

    Maria sighed. "You would always taunt him. Don't you remember? Call his mother horrible things. Tell him he was next."

    Ginny had a sudden flashback. Harry was on his knees, scrubbing the stone floor with a brush, and she was standing above him, sneering. "Your mother's a little tramp," she said snottily. "She came to _my_ father, not the other way around…"

    And Harry just gritted his teeth, but did not reply.

    "You're next, Harry Potter. My parents have plans for you…"

    Ginny blinked and tried to shake the image from her head. It was so _real_, just like a memory. _Oh, God, what's happening? Is this world really real? Did all this really happen?_

    "Try to get some sleep," Maria said, and what seemed like a second later, all the candles were out and she'd left. Ginny was alone in her dark bedroom, still sitting up and staring at the floor, lost in thought.

    Slowly, Ginny lay back down. Now she knew the truth, why Harry hated her, but it didn't make her feel any better. How could she have been so _horrible_?

    _It wasn't me_, she assured herself. _I would've never said anything like that to Harry. Never._

    She thought she would never fall asleep, but the day had been so emotionally exhausting. The instant her eyes slid shut she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Draco had been walking around the castle after lunch, trying to figure out what to do, when he ran into Ginny. 

    He'd noticed that morning at breakfast, as she picked at her food, that her skin had been looking a bit sallow. Her eyes seemed bigger and darker and sadder, and there were purple-black shadows under them. Of course, he hadn't said anything to her – he figured she was probably worrying nonstop about how to get back to Hogwarts. 

    She walked by him without acknowledging him. Annoyed, he turned and asked, "Hungry?"

    She stopped, stood with her back to him for a moment, then slowly spun to face him. "What?" she asked in a dejected tone.

    "Aren't you hungry?"

    She gave him a look of disbelief and confusion. "Just leave me alone, Malfoy." And she began to walk away from him again.

    He frowned. _No_, he thought stubbornly. He didn't want to leave her alone. He wanted to know what was wrong with her. Striding after her, he elaborated. "You barely ate anything at breakfast and lunch today."

    "That's my business." She quickened her pace and would not look over her shoulder.

    Draco stopped, his frown turning into a scowl. "Fine. Go off and think of a way to get us back, then, will you?"

    At that she twirled around, her hair twirling around her head. "I thought you didn't think there _was_ a way to get back," she snapped.

    _At least I got her attention_, he thought, smirking. "I don't. But the way you look I figure you've been slaving over idea after idea of trying to get home."

    She narrowed her eyes, then took a few steps closer to him. "You think you know everything, don't you?"

    "I know everything I need to know," he replied smoothly.

    Her arms crossed firmly over her chest, she glared and asked, "Do you know why Harry hates me?"

    "No. And I don't want to know."

    "Because I've been evil to him," she said, ignoring him. "In this world I'm some sort of…of spoiled, cruel princess. I'm…I'm like _you_. No wonder they wanted us to be married. They think we're the perfect match."

    "I'm _evil_?" Draco scowled. 

    "Yes. You are." He noticed a thin sheen of perspiration on her forehead. _Do I really make her that nervous?_ he wondered. "And," she went on, "I'm beginning to think that maybe you like it here. After all, you're a prince. You've always acted like one. So why not stay where you belong?"

    He stared at her hard. "What _are_ you talking about?"

    She opened her mouth to reply, but then looked as if she changed her mind. Running her tongue over her lips, she seemed to sway on her feet. With the sleeve of her dress she wiped her forehead. "It's getting hot in here, isn't it?" she muttered.

    It was actually rather cold, since they were near a large window. Every now and then, when the wind blew outside, Draco could feel the icy draft leaking in. 

    "What I'm _saying_," she went on, only this time she didn't have as much feeling, "is that if I somehow find a way to get back to the future, maybe you should stay here."

    "Like you really expect to find a way back by _yourself_?" he said incredulously. She began to cough. "Face it, Weasely. You'll need _my_ help to find whatever way there is to get home in the future."

    She finished coughing and gave him a weak glare. "Honestly, Draco, you'd think by the way you speak you actually believe there is a way to get home."

    He stepped closer to her. "Notice how I said _whatever way_," he said, sneering. "And I never said I didn't think there was a way to get back –"

    "Yes you did."

    " – what I said was that _we_ can't do it because _we_ didn't bring ourselves here. We might, however, find someone who can do it for us."

    Her eyes brightened slightly. "Yeah, like that magic woman I told you about yesterday. We could see her…" She began coughing again, this time a bit more violently.

    "Are you feeling okay, Weasley?" he demanded, sure to keep any emotion out of his voice.

    "I'm fine," she said with one final cough. "Not like you'd care anyway. You don't care about anything."

    That annoyed him. He'd been nice enough to actually inquire about how she was feeling, since her eyes were looking darker and darker and she was sweating more visibly, and she'd had to go and snap at him. Annoyance melted into anger. "I never said I didn't care about anything," he snapped. "You keep putting words into my mouth, Weasley."

    She shut her eyes briefly, then opened them to glare at him. "Draco, you're giving me a headache."

    "Good," he sneered. 

    She put her fingers up to her temples and closed her eyes again, as if trying to block out the sight of him. Once again she swayed, and had to quickly put out her hands to keep her balance. 

    Draco was beginning to think there _was_ something wrong with her but she just wasn't telling him. _Fine,_ he thought. _If she wants to keep her misery to herself, let her._

    "Floor a little uneven, there?" he asked, smirking.

    She shot him a look of pure annoyance. "I think I need to lie down for a little while," she said, coughing shortly. Draco watched, slightly amused, as she turned and started to sort of stagger down the hall, one hand pressed over her chest.

    _She looks drunk_, he thought, nearly grinning. 

    Ginny stopped shortly. And then her legs collapsed from under her. She fell in a flurry of red curls and lacy skirts, not making one cry of pain or surprise as she did.

    Draco was startled at first, unsure of what to do. Then he realized that something was _very_ wrong, and she had not meant to fall on purpose. In a few strides he'd reached her, and crouched at her side. Her eyes were closed, but she was muttering under her breath, and shaking her head. Then she arched her back and coughed again, so fiercely Draco wouldn't have been surprised if one of her lungs popped out. She was beginning to sweat heavily, her hair sticking to her damp forehead and neck. 

    _She's sick_, he realized, and warily placed his palm on her cheek. Her skin felt clammy and slick with perspiration. She moaned when he touched her, turning her head the other way.

    Draco stared, uncertain if she was asleep or not. Should he leave her and find help, or carry her to her room himself? He began to feel a little panicked, and it was not a comfortable feeling. He normally knew what to do in most circumstances, but she looked _really_ sick. Like she'd eaten bad meat or something. 

    "Ginny?" he said.

    "My chest hurts," she murmured, her eyelids fluttering but not opening. "And…and it's cold…"

    _Wasn't she hot just a few minutes ago?_ Draco looked around, though he wasn't sure what he was searching for. To his relief, he heard footsteps coming, and an instant later Harry appeared at the end of the corridor. 

    Draco's relief was short lived. Harry came closer, opening his mouth to say something, but then noticed that Ginny was in a delirious sleep. 

    "Go get somebody," Draco ordered. He stared up at Harry, and could've sworn he saw something flicker in his green eyes. Was it concern? He couldn't tell because in a moment it was gone, and Harry had turned and was walking back the way he'd come to get help.

* * *

A/N: Okay, this chapter is a bit long, but at least now we know why Harry hates Ginny! And the death of the family of ten _does_ have to do with the plot, but you won't find the details out until later.

Now, review please!


	7. Doctor Thomas

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns it all.

A/N: I'm sorry this took a while to get out. It took me a while to finish it! Hope you like ;)

Chapter Seven

_Doctor Thomas_

When Ginny woke up, it took her a moment to realize where she was. At first, when she saw the blurred figure hovering above her, a cool damp rag being patted against her burning face, she thought it was her mother, and she was home in bed. But she blinked several times, the room coming into focus, the sounds of voices becoming clearer, and realized she wasn't at home. 

She tried to sit up quickly. "Mum?" she said thickly, though gentle hands were attempting to push her back down. "Where am I?" 

"Your mother's asleep, darling," came a familiar voice, and once again the cool rag was pressed against her forehead. "It's the middle of the night." 

It was Maria. Everything came rushing back to Ginny, and with a groan of despair she dropped back to the bed. Her head pounded, her body ached with fever, and her skin burned. When she attempted to speak again, she was overpowered by a coughing fit. It killed her throat, which was already incredibly sore, but she couldn't help it. She was most relieved when it passed, lowering her hands from her mouth, though it seemed to drain strength from her. 

"What's wrong with me?" she croaked. 

Maria smiled gently at her, her dark eyes troubled. She paused to dunk the rag into a basin of cold water on the table beside the bed, wrung it out, and returned it to Ginny's skin. "We're not really sure, dear," she replied. 

Not sure? Ginny gaped at her for a moment, but the air must've irritated her throat, and she began coughing again. A sudden chill washed over her, causing her to shiver, but an instant later she was back to feeling scorching. 

_ A cough . . . chills . . . sore throat . . . fever_, Ginny ticked off in her head. It sounded sort of like the flu, but she'd had influenza before, and it hadn't felt quite like this. 

She quit worrying about it for a moment, and focused her eyes on Maria. "Am I going to die?" she rasped. 

Maria's concern vanished from her face and she grew indignant. "Certainly not!" she declared hotly. "I will not let you die, Highness. That is a promise." She squeezed Ginny's hand briefly before standing up and walking towards the door. "I'll be back in a moment with something warm for your throat," she said over her shoulder, and gave her one final tiny smile before leaving. 

Ginny moaned slightly and let her head fall back on the pillow. She didn't want something warm – she was already burning up as it was. Kicking the sheets off her, she laid still and tried to ignore the misery her body was in. 

Maria's promise hadn't really made her feel much better. It was a kind gesture, of course, but Ginny wasn't an idiot. She _knew_ they didn't have good medical care in the seventeenth century. People could die from something as simple as a cold, and this was a lot worse. 

She closed her eyes and licked her dry lips, trying to imagine herself at home in her own bed. Whenever she was sick, her mother would stay by her bedside most of the time, and when she couldn't, her father or one of her brothers was there. Ginny knew she was spoiled when it came to family – often, though, it got irritating, always being watched by an older brother. Although she was always appreciative when she was sick, and grateful that she wouldn't have to lie there by herself. 

Now, she was alone, and the silence of the house rang in her ears. She was uncomfortably hot, obviously with fever, and her throat felt raw and dry. It hurt to swallow, and of course when she focused on _not_ swallowing, she had to. Several times she had to cough, not as viciously as before, but it still hurt nonetheless. 

She felt exhausted, but fought to stay awake. It wasn't like she wanted to stay awake for Maria to return with food, because she wasn't hungry at all. The reason was because she wanted to ask about Draco. 

Ginny could remember talking to him in the hall, and then she'd collapsed. She could vaguely remember him touching her face, but then again, that could've just been a dream. 

That was where she wasn't sure if she wanted it to be a dream or not. She couldn't figure out which was more disturbing – having a dream of Draco touching her, or him really touching her in actuality. It wasn't that it hadn't been nice, for the feeling of his cool hand against her skin had been rather wonderful, and she was sure if she hadn't been sick then she might've felt something between them. _Thank God I was sick_, she thought gratefully. 

But what had he done when she'd fallen? Had he left her there and gotten help, or had he carried her somewhere? She found herself wishing for the latter, though she knew she shouldn't be. The typical Draco Malfoy would've left her there even if she were dying just to get help so he wouldn't have to deal with it himself. 

* * * 

Draco wasn't sure why he was having trouble falling asleep. But he'd been tossing and turning all night, wide-awake. There was a nagging in the pit of his stomach, and though his thoughts were never on Ginny, he knew it was because of her. 

He'd been sure to think of everything _but_ her, but finally he just gave up and had to admit that he was worried about her. She was really ill, and when he'd checked with Maria just before he'd gone to bed, she'd reported that her skin was scalding. That must've meant she had a high fever. From her other symptoms Draco guessed that she had pneumonia, which he'd had twice himself from being locked in the cold dungeons several times in his pajamas and nothing else, and knew what to look for. 

He had a hunch, though, that these people had no clue how to treat pneumonia patients. They weren't the most advanced in medical science. Ginny was possibly in danger of dying. 

Now why that bothered him so much he couldn't fathom. It kept him tossing and turning until finally, with a loud and irritated sigh, he shoved the covers off of him and swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

_ Maybe if I go for a walk_, he thought, frowning in anger at his inability to fall asleep, _it'll help clear my mind._

Since his eyes were already adjusted to the darkness, he was able to move about without hitting anything. He found a velvet robe, which was neatly placed away in the wardrobe by one of the servants who'd unpacked for him, and some thick socks, putting them on. A few minutes later he left his room, shutting his door quietly behind him. 

He really couldn't stand the castle at night. Flickering candles that barely added any warmth to the cold stone walls and floor dimly lit the corridors. Draco couldn't help but feel at any moment a vampire was going to jump out at him, or a black cat run across his path. It didn't frighten him, because his own house had somewhat the same feel to it, but it still annoyed him slightly. 

Draco wasn't sure where he was going – _just for a walk_, he decided, but somehow found himself walking towards Ginny's room. 

He stopped short when he realized it, cursing under his breath. What was wrong with him? Ginny wasn't dead yet. He could wait until morning to see her. _Besides_, he remembered with an unpleasant lurch, _when I saw her earlier today she looked terrible. I really don't want to see her like that again._

If there was one thing Draco didn't like, it was helplessness. He couldn't stand to see people look so lost, so helpless, like Ginny had when he'd went against all his Malfoy instincts and checked on her earlier that afternoon. She'd been asleep, moaning under her breath, shivering one moment despite her sweat, and then kicking off the sheets pitifully. She hadn't even been awake and he hadn't been able to bear really to look at her. 

"Highness?" came a timid voice. 

Draco spun around, startled, and saw Maria bustling towards him. She had a tray balanced on one hand with a bowl of something steaming placed on it. As she drew closer Draco noticed the exhaustion etched in her face, realizing that this woman probably had been hurrying about all day with barely any rest. 

She stopped before him, tilting her head back so she could meet his eyes. "Is there something you are requiring, Highness?" she asked, her tone weary. 

"No," Draco answered. "Just . . . I was just going for a walk." 

Maria pressed her lips in a thin line, and then smiled weakly at him. "I suggest not wandering around too late, Highness. You need your rest." 

"And you don't?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow. 

She took it the wrong way, because she hurried to explain. "Oh no, Highness, I didn't mean it like that. It's just I wouldn't you to be tired tomorrow and I was merely suggesting that you –" 

"No, I think _you_ misunderstood _me_," he interrupted. "I was just stating that it looks as though you need rest yourself. That's all."

For a moment, she goggled at him. Then she closed her mouth and seemed to remember what she was out to do. "If you'll excuse me, Highness, I need to bring this broth for Highness Ginny." 

She stepped around him and started to walk the length of the hall to where Ginny's room was. Draco blurted out before he could stop himself, "She's awake?" 

Maria paused before going into the room, glancing over at Draco. "Yes, she woke a few minutes ago." 

Draco's legs had a mind of their own because a moment later he was beside Maria at the doorway. "Does that mean she's getting better?"

"I should hope so, Highness," replied Maria with a slight frown of worry. "I've never seen an illness quite like this before." 

_That makes sense,_ Draco realized. _They probably don't know what pneumonia is now . . . or back then. _He figured since Ginny was from the future, had the body of someone nearly four hundred years in the future, that she had caught it when no one else now could. 

"Would you like to visit her?" 

Maria's somewhat wary tone cut into Draco's mind, and he snapped his eyes on her. She looked slightly afraid that he would yell at her for suggesting such a thing. 

But did he want to see her? Yes, he knew he did. There was no denying that. And somehow he felt he should be the one who was there with her. He couldn't really explain the feeling - though he desperately wished it didn't exist - of why he felt that she needed him more than anyone else. Maybe it was because they both knew they were from the future. 

Then he shook the absurd thoughts from his head. He was making something out of nothing. Ginny hated his guts - plain and simple. She threw tantrums nearly every time he was around. She was never happy when she spoke to him. Their conversations always ended up full-blown rows - shouting, screaming, the whole bit. Not to mention that Draco could barely stand being around Ginny because she grated his nerves to no end. Just because she was pleasant to look at didn't mean anything. And now she wouldn't be pleasant to look at, because she'd be deathly sick. 

"Highness -?" Maria asked again when Draco didn't reply. 

"I'll see her," Draco answered before she had even finished her question. 

* * * 

Ginny fought to stay awake, just because she found that she wanted the comfort of knowing someone was nearby, and she wanted to wait for Maria. Her eyelids fought against her decision, sliding shut every so often since they felt so heavy. She let out a small sigh of gratitude when her bedroom door finally opened. 

Maria came in with a tray of steaming broth. But Draco was just behind her. 

At first Ginny thought she was hallucinating. She watched as Maria crossed the room and helped her into a sitting position, putting pillows behind her and then placing the tray on her lap. Draco stood back by the doorway, his arms crossed, watching with a blank face. 

Maria turned and then started back towards the door. She paused by Draco and said quietly, "Only a few minutes, Highness. She is more exhausted than I realized." 

Draco nodded shortly, and Maria left, shutting the door firmly behind her. Ginny met Draco's eyes for a moment, then lowered her head to spoon in the tasteless yet warm broth, which she had no appetite for. 

Ginny almost wished Draco hadn't come. She knew she must look terrible. Her hair stuck to her damp forehead and the back of her neck, and her thick cotton nightgown clung to her body because of the sweat. Licking the back of her silver spoon clean, she glanced in it at her reflection for a second. Her image was slightly tilted, but she could still see the dark circles under her sunken eyes and the pasty appearance her skin had taken on. 

But despite how embarrassed and awkward she was feeling, a little part of her couldn't help but feel relieved. Why on earth Draco Malfoy would be the one to make her feel relieved she didn't know. Glancing up at him again, she saw he was still staring at her with that blank expression. _Why does he always have to look so perfect?_ she wondered. _Since he looks so good it makes me seem ten times worse than I am._

As if reading her mind, he opened his mouth and drawled, "You look like shit." 

Ginny narrowed her eyes in surprise for a moment. Then she laughed. It wasn't really a laugh, since it sounded scratchy and ended up as a cough, but she smiled. It seemed to get rid of all the tension that she'd felt between them, and suddenly she felt really at ease with him despite how terrible her body felt. 

"Would you like to sit down?" Ginny asked, pointing over at a chair with her spoon. She hated how her voice was - rough and hoarse, like she had a cold and was loosing it - but she couldn't really help it. "Pull up a chair." 

Draco stared at her for a moment longer as if contemplating. Then he shrugged slightly and uncrossed his arms, went over to grab a chair, and pulled it up beside the bed just like Ginny had suggested. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and templing his fingers in front of his mouth, and was silent a few moments before speaking. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "this is the only time you've been nice to me, and you just happen to be sick and, most likely, delirious." 

"I'm not delirious," Ginny replied defensively, her coarse voice squeaking. "And I'd be nicer to you a lot often if you were nice to me." 

"That's the thing you need to understand, Weasley," Draco said, looking at her intensely. She wasn't sure why his strong gaze made her heart flop oddly. "I'm not a nice person. I'm only being myself around you." 

Ginny stared back for a long moment before returning to her broth. What could she say to that? It was the truth. Draco Malfoy was naturally a mean and nasty person, and nothing would change that. She understood that the way he acted towards her wasn't just an act for her benefit – or to see her get angry. It was the way he generally reacted with everyone. 

_But he's probably extra nasty to Weasleys_, Ginny couldn't help but think. 

There was a long stretch of quiet, the only noise being Ginny slurping her water-like broth. It was really _too_ warm considering that the sweat was nearly pouring off her face. What she wouldn't give for a Chilling Spell at that moment. 

When Ginny couldn't take anymore of the broth, she removed the tray from her lap and set it on the bed beside her. Then she didn't know what to do or say. She didn't feel comfortable staring at him without talking, so instead she looked her hands. 

A question popped into her mind, and before she could think twice she blurted it. "Why did you come? It's nearly four in the morning."

"I'm an early riser."

Ginny looked up at him rather slowly, considering any jerky movements seemed terribly painful and exhausting to her right then. His expression, once again, was unreadable. "Has anyone told you," she asked huskily, "that you're weird?" 

He smirked then, amusement surfacing in his steel eyes. "No, you're the first one." 

"I don't understand you," Ginny went on, encouraged by his light response. "One minute I think you hate me and the next you do something like this." 

That did it. The emotion fell off his face like someone had dropped a curtain over his feelings. "Something like what?" he asked tonelessly. 

She frowned, her head pounding. She'd lost her train of thought. Suddenly, all she wanted once again was to sleep. "I dunno," she mumbled. "Visit me, I guess. I don't understand you."

"You said that already."

"Sorry. But I really don't." 

"I don't want you to understand me," he replied, the corner of his mouths drooping. "You're the last person I want to understand me." 

If she hadn't felt so exhausted she would've been angry. Instead, she said thickly, "Okay. Then I won't try." 

"Are you tired?"

"No, I'm all right," she lied. She wasn't sure why she said that. Maybe it was because she didn't want him to leave. 

He smirked. "All right like you were earlier today when you passed out?"

"I didn't pass out . . ." She blinked. "I just . . . fainted. Sort of." 

"Same thing." 

"Are you really an early riser, or did you visit me for a reason?"

He clearly hadn't been expecting that question, because he looked startled. Ginny ordered her eyes to focus on him and fought to keep her eyelids open. "I was just curious," he finally said quietly, "as to what sickness you had. I wanted to see for myself and see if I could decide." 

"Have you?" Ginny asked. 

He hesitated. "Pneumonia," he finally replied. 

"Oh. That's good. People survive pneumonia," she said. Her tongue felt very heavy and lazy, and she knew she was slurring. 

Draco frowned. "Um, yeah, I guess." He gave her a sidelong look. "Maybe I should go." He started to stand. 

"No," Ginny found herself protesting. She reached out and grabbed his arm. "No, don't go. Please." Her voice had dropped to a whisper. 

Surprise reflected in his eyes as he stared down at her. He glanced at her hands wrapped around his arm then back at her, clearly indicating he wanted her to let go. But she didn't. 

"Stay," she pleaded, "until I fall asleep." 

He seemed to be considering it, and for a moment Ginny knew he would agree. His eyes searched her face as if she held the answers. Then he spoke. "You're not thinking properly," he muttered. "Maria will be back shortly." 

He pried her fingers off his arm. In a few strides he'd reached the door and without glancing back left, not bothering to shut it behind him. 

Ginny stared at the open doorway for a moment, trying to figure out what just happened. She'd begged him to stay and he hadn't. And she _was_ thinking properly . . . wasn't she? 

_Will I regret this later?_ she wondered. Sliding down into a lying position, her eyes fell shut. Even though she was nearly asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, she had time to think about how much she had wanted him to stay. _Why?_ she thought. _Why when all I've done my whole life is hate him?_

A second later, she drifted into a merciful sleep.

* * *

When Draco stumbled out into the hall, feeling as though he couldn't get out of Ginny's room quick enough, he nearly collided with Maria. She'd been standing near the doorway, and, Draco had a sneaky suspicion, had been listening in on the conversation.

It annoyed him, but not enough to stop and ask questions. Instead he breezed past her, heard her sharp intake of breath at his haste, and rounded the corner, feeling her black eyes staring after him.

What was his problem? It seemed he couldn't have gotten out of Ginny's room fast enough. That's what he couldn't figure out. What had made him want to leave so quickly? 

_I'm being a complete idiot, he thought, though if he could've done that scene between him and Ginny just now over again, he wouldn't have done anything different. Except perhaps leave earlier so she wouldn't have had the chance to ask him to stay._

She really hadn't been thinking about what she was asking, Draco knew. She'd just been so desperate to have someone stay with her she didn't care that it was him. When she came to her senses she'd be completely embarrassed, and then _she'd be the one feeling like a moron._

But that still didn't explain why he'd run from her room as if he were being chased by a pack of werewolves. And he knew the exact reason it was.

He'd wanted to stay with her.

There was no denying it. He had nearly said yes to her, and that's what scared him. His feelings were all mixed up inside because they changed so much around her. Most of the time she annoyed him and angered him. _Most times. But there were some times when he found himself staring at her, filled with a strange longing that he couldn't describe. He refused to believe it was because he wanted her - he did not want Ginny Weasley. It had to be some sort of lusting, some sort of feeling that she was the only one who really understood that they were in deep shit and that she was really the only person he knew, __period._

Draco walked slowly back to his room and he could feel a splitting headache coming on. It must've been all the confusion about what he felt for Ginny and lack of sleep combined. 

Still, he wanted to figure it all out. What exactly did he feel for her? He didn't exactly loath her anymore, that was for sure. He was feeling guilty because she was so sick, though why he should feel guilty about that was unclear to him.

_Don't feel bad, he told himself, smirking, __because once she recovers she'll be back to her annoying self and begin yelling at you again. _

That slightly cheered him up. Maybe he was just taking this all the wrong way. Maybe he felt nothing for Ginny except guilt - the guilt of how much pain she was going through and how there was a slight possibility she could die. That's probably why he'd wanted to stay with her.

But that still didn't tell him why in the world he would feel bad for her, when he'd never felt bad for anyone in his life. When he'd heard about Cedric Diggory and his untimely death, he felt nothing. When he'd heard about the dangerous way Harry had defeated Voldemort seventh year and nearly lost his life, he felt nothing. He'd never felt anything for anybody before, and now all the sudden he was feeling _guilty, as in it-feels-like-my-fault guilty, about Ginny Weasley?_

Draco reached his room and went in. This time he barely had any trouble falling asleep, because exhaustion settled in and he went out just after his head hit the pillow, silencing off all further thoughts.

* * *

"Ginny," a far-away sounding voice came. "Ginny, dear, wake up." 

Ginny clung to sleep, not wanting to get up and feel the pain of her sickness, moaning slightly and hugging her pillow tighter. "Go 'way, Ron," she mumbled.

"Ron?" came the same voice, this time confused. Then she was being shaken by her shoulders. "Virginia, wake up this instant. Must I have Thomas pour cold water over your head?" 

_Mmm, Ginny thought, feeling the sweat that covered her body, __that would be perfect._

But the shaking continued, and she became more and more awake. Finally, she opened her heavy eyelids to see not Maria, but the queen sitting beside her on the bed and trying to wake her.

Somehow Ginny remembered, even through her sickness and fatigue, what this woman had done to Harry's mum. And all she could think as she slowly rolled onto her back to see her better was that she was an evil, evil person and deserved to die for what she'd done.

"Finally," the queen said, pressing her lips in a thin line. "Thomas is here to see you. He's just outside the door."

"Thomas?" Ginny croaked. 

"Yes." When she stared blankly, her mother sighed and elaborated. "Thomas, one of the best doctors in the world? We managed to get him to come and check on you. Fortunately he's been staying in London for the past few days."

"Oh." Ginny wasn't sure what else to say.

The queen frowned. "I do hope you're not coming down with something contagious. A disease breakout would be most unfortunate right now . . ."

_Her own daughter is in danger of dying, Ginny thought, gaping at her, __and all she can think about is how unfortunate the timing would be? _

"Quit staring at me like that," she snapped at Ginny. There was a slight pause before she stood up and started towards the door. "I'll just send Thomas in then." Then, she stopped at the doorway and turned back. "Who is Ron, would you care to enlighten me?"

Ginny was sure her already sweaty, red face turned several shades pinker. She'd been half asleep and hadn't really been thinking about what she was saying when she'd blurted that out. "Who?" she asked weakly.

The queen pursed her lips and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. "Sometimes," she said snottily, "I do wonder about you."

Ginny couldn't resist sticking up her middle finger at the queen's retreating back. She moved into a sitting position and let her head fall back, listening to the voices of the doctor and her mother out in the hallway. She couldn't understand the words, but she had a feeling the queen was saying bad things about her. 

Thomas entered so silently Ginny didn't know he had until he was right by her bedside. He must've moved quieter than a cat for she hadn't heard a single thing. Her eyes had been closed, waiting for him to lumber in, beer belly and greasy hair and all, carrying a black leather case full of the things he'd need, when suddenly an oddly familiar voice filled her ears.

"Virginia."

He didn't call her Highness or anything. Just her name. Ginny thought she must have been imagining it, for she hadn't heard him enter, so she opened her eyes. He was standing there, smiling slightly down at her, tall and slender. His hair was black, making his already pale skin seem even whiter. His eyes were a shade of brilliant blue, the color of sapphires, and they seemed to twinkle with some deep, dark, knowing secret he possessed. He had his arms crossed, though his white fingers gripping his elbows, contrasting with his dark ensemble. Ginny's mouth had gone cotton dry and she stared at those fingers . . . those spider-like hands with uncommonly long fingers . . .

Then she managed to move her eyes up to meet his again, and they locked gazes. _Oh God, she thought, __this can't be happening . . . it just can't be, __I must be hallucinating or dreaming . . . _

But she wasn't. No matter how hard she prayed and wished, this man would not disappear.

Tom Riddle still stood beside her and still smiled chillingly at her. He was there, and he wasn't going away.

"Hello, Virginia," he said. "How are we feeling?"

That voice . . . it brought make an onrush of memories. Her horrible first year, being controlled by him, being forced to do things she would never have done otherwise. And it was such a nice voice, deep and throaty. But if one listened hard enough one could hint the icy malice in it, the deliberate evil that was very subtle.

Ginny felt like her heart had jumped into her throat. She was no longer hot - her blood seemed to have frozen in her veins. The only thing that hinted it was still coursing through her was her pounding heart, so loud, thumping like a drum.

He was still smiling at her. Smiling as if he didn't notice how terrified Ginny was, or how the color had faded from her face. Smiling like all was right in the world, as if everything was how it should be.

Ginny could scarcely breath, much less talk. So many things flashed through her mind at that moment. Had Tom Riddle brought her and Draco here? Was he the one that had killed that family of ten? Was he going to kill her now? Did he know very well that she was from the future? 

"Don't look at me like that, Virginia," Tom Riddle chuckled, amusement clearly obvious. "I'm not very famous . . . don't let me intimidate you."

If she hadn't been so terribly frightened, so terribly afraid to move or let out one tiny squeak, she would've laughed. He thought he merely intimidated her! And only because he was a famous "doctor"! It had to be an act. He had to know the reaction he was getting from her. He had to know how evil he was.

Ginny studied him. He looked no older than twenty - how could he possibly be a doctor, and a famous one at that? The resemblance of his features and Harry's were uncanny: the eyes held the same brilliant sparkle, the hair was the same dark black . . . even the way they moved their mouth was similar.

_He didn't become Voldemort until well after he was a teenager, Ginny realized. Yet that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. Tom Riddle had been full of suppressed anger since he was very young, and it had built up through his teenage years until finally, when he was an adult, he had taken matters into his own hands and used his anger in a terrible way._

_He's dangerous now. He might kill me here and at this very moment._

_ She found she wanted to call out for help. But she couldn't make her lips move to form the words. Couldn't find her voice. Instead she began to tremble, afraid of what was going to happen to her._

When she glanced up at Tom Riddle again, his face had folded into a look of concern. "Are you trembling from your illness?" he inquired rather gently. And he uncrossed his arms, reaching for her. Ginny cringed away from him, unable to tear her eyes from his fingers. Oh, how she hated those fingers . . . "I won't hurt you. I'm here to help you, Virginia," he said softly and reassuringly. 

"Don't touch me," Ginny whispered. Yet it didn't come out with as much feeling as she'd hoped - it just sounded as though she were scared out of her wits of being touched while sick. And that wasn't it, oh that was definitely far from the truth.

"Virginia, I must," Tom Riddle replied. "If you hope to live this unusual sickness you must let me touch you."

_Never, Ginny swore in her mind. But rather than saying that out loud she said hoarsely, "It's pneumonia."_

"I beg your pardon?"

Ginny had curled up into a ball, lying on her side, trying not to look at him. "Pneumonia," she repeated, squeezing her eyes shut in attempt not to cry. "I have pneumonia."

"Oh really?" Once again he sounded amused, and she just had to look up at him. He was once again smiling, though it was a normal smile. "I've never heard of such a disease. Did you just make that up?"

Ginny bit her lower lip hard. He had to know that she was from the future - he just _had to. It must be him who'd brought Draco and her back in time. He was the only one capable of such power. Somehow, his spirit must live on, perhaps in another diary. Just because he was defeated in the future, nearly four hundred years from now, didn't mean that he couldn't have done this. Knowing him he'd probably had a million backup plans, just in case he ever __did die._

_This is his doing. He is the reason we're back here in this alternate world. It has to be him._

_ "My dear, I promise I won't hurt you." The kind and gentle tone of his voice seemed to attract Ginny's eyes to his, and for a moment she was lost in their blue depths. Her mind went blank, and when she finally seemed to snap out of it, she was furious with herself._

_He's playing with you, she told herself. __You know you have to be careful around him. He's dangerous and powerful. Just because this is the seventeenth century doesn't mean –_

Ginny's whole body went rigid when she felt him touch her. He had grabbed her arms, which were linked over her legs and hugging them to her chest, and was gently prying them apart. His touch was ice cold, but it felt so good against her blazing skin she didn't struggle - instead, her body went limp and she allowed him to position her as he wished. It had to be the longest minute of her life. She was terrified, and that combined with how crappy she was feeling made her want to vomit. Since she hadn't eaten anything solid in a while, though, she managed to keep what was left in her stomach down.

"Do you always have a racing heartbeat with this illness," Tom Riddle began, and she could feel his eyes trying to find hers, though she kept them shut tightly, "or is it just because I'm touching you?"

She couldn't answer. She _couldn't. Her heart seemed to beat even faster at that, and she had trouble breathing properly._

"I'm going to be touching you quite a bit," he said gently. "I need to feel for anything unusual. Is that all right with you?"

Was that all right with her? No, it wasn't! He was _not going to put his spidery hands on her and feel her. He was __not going to put his longer-than-normal fingers on her skin and give her goosebumps. No matter what she was __not going to let him –_

But he already was. He hadn't even waited for her answer. First he pressed his palms to her cheeks, his icy skin feeling surprisingly refreshing against her warm flesh. Then he felt her forehead. Ginny's eyes flew open and she found he was leaning over her, his face surprisingly close to hers. But he didn't seem to notice for he had a professional look about him. He appeared to be absorbed in what he was doing, not in her.

He really was good-looking. Almost more so than Draco. She somehow managed to swallow around the large lump in her throat.

"You have a high fever," he murmured, frowning and not looking in her eyes. He was already looking at the side of her head into her ears. "Have you experienced any chills lately?"

_Yes, but since you arrived I seem to be having them a lot more, she thought. But she opened her dry mouth and croaked out, "Yes."_

"Open up," he said, and tapped his fingertips to her lips. She jumped nearly to the ceiling, but Tom pretended not to notice. After a moment when she didn't obey he sighed. "You can make this easy or hard, Virginia. I don't want to force you but you are very ill, perhaps even close to death, so I'll do what I have to."

_ Liar, she thought. __You want to kill me yourself. You would love to force me to do stuff - after all, you didn't seem to have a problem forcing me to open the Chamber of Secrets, did you?_

When she didn't reply he sighed again, then grabbed her chin and forced her jaw down. He had surprising strength, plus she hadn't really been ready for it. Lowering his head so he could see into her mouth, he once again wore that professional look. Ginny remained absolutely still, trying to ignore the fact that one of his hands was holding on firmly to underneath her chin, the other placed on the top of her hair so he could tilt her head in any direction he wanted. His touch was so cold, and yet she found herself not loathing it all that much.

_Oh, God, I need to stop thinking, she thought, mad that she wasn't one hundred percent horrified at the feeling of his skin against hers._

"Your throat is very red," he declared after a moment, dropping her jaw and removing his hand from her head. "You've been coughing a lot, haven't you?"

Numbly Ginny nodded.

He nodded, too, and looked troubled. _Wow, he makes one hell of an actor, she couldn't help but think. __If I didn't know who he was I would've actually believed he was worried about me. _

"Well," Tom said, sighing again, "I'm not sure what to make of it all. I'm going to need to check you some more, all right?"

He sat up so he wasn't leaning over her anymore, and since he was looking away he didn't see her shake her head in protest. _No, no more, just leave me alone, she wanted to say, but somehow couldn't form the words._

Then, without warning, he placed each hand on both of her sides where her ribs were. She let out a surprised shriek, feeling the coolness of his skin even through her thick nightgown, and squirmed. He held on firmly but gave her a look that made him seem he felt guilty about it.

"Let me go," she insisted, grabbing each of his hands at the wrists and trying to pry them off. "Don't you _dare touch me, you -"_

He recoiled and held his hands up, his expression shocked, then melting into a defensive look. "I'm sorry, Virginia," he said angrily, his eyes darkening. "Your mother insisted that I inspect you as to find what is wrong with you." 

Inspect her? What was she, a broomstick? She didn't need to be "inspected" - she knew very well what was wrong with her! 

"I have god. Damn. Pneumonia," she said loudly and slowly.

He frowned, still looking slightly angry. "There's no such thing," he snapped, though there was a hint of patience. "I'm the doctor here, not you, Virginia. So just lie back and -"

"Let you put your spidery hands on me? I don't think so!" Ginny shot back. Somehow she'd found the courage to speak to him in such a manner, but as soon as the words left her mouth she wished she hadn't said them. She was sure to enrage him, and then she could say bye-bye to her _wonderful life as a princess. Or as anything, for that matter._

Tom glanced down at his hands for a moment, as if offended by how she'd called them "spidery", and then raised his head to look heatedly at her. "I'm sorry you feel that way," he said coolly, though he didn't sound sorry at all. "But I am going to do as your mother wishes. And you will let me."

Ginny felt a wave of fresh fear wash over her, and she swallowed thickly. She'd just dug herself into a hole. Now she felt so terribly tired and worn-out, knowing that she was out of options. If she tried to run he would both catch up with her before she reached the door and throw her back to the bed, or she'd run around the castle for a little while before passing out again.

But she couldn't just let him _feel her! She wouldn't feel comfortable having a real doctor touch her like that, much less Tom Riddle._

What was she going to do? There was nothing to do. Swallowing again, she nodded once and squeezed her eyes shut, praying it would be over soon. 

It wasn't all that bad. He just put pressure on her stomach and squeezed her sides, which normally tickled her but for some reason when he did it it only made her wince. Then he checked her pulse, pulled back her nightgown sleeves and inspected her arms closely._ As if there would be anything wrong with my arms, she thought dryly._

The worst of it was when he pulled up the bottom of her nightgown to see her legs. He didn't go higher than mid-thigh, but it still had to be the most humiliating moments of her entire life. 

Finally, he pulled her nightgown back down and stood up with another sigh. "I don't know what to tell you, Virginia," he said, all pervious anger at her forgotten and the "doctor" tone back in place. "I've never seen anything like it."

Ginny opened her eyes to look up at him. She just managed to bite her tongue and keep from telling him once again she knew what she had. He caught her gaze and smiled.

_How can he hide his evil so well?_ she wondered, unable to look away. _How, when it scars his very soul, and contaminates him like a poison?_

His smile was assuring and gentle, but Ginny could've sworn that for just an instant, something flashed in his eyes. Something dark and dangerous, something that hinted who he really was, what he would become. Yet it was gone in a moment, and if Ginny hadn't known him than she would've thought she'd imagined it. _It was there_, she thought. _I know it was._

"I might have something to help you," Tom said after the long moment when they just stared at each other. "I'll send your servant up with it shortly. Do try and get some more rest."

He showed his back to her and looked as though he were going to leave. But as he took the first step he stopped short and turned on his heels. Ginny's breath caught in her throat when she realized he was reaching a hand down to touch her again.

She squeezed her eyes shut, which it seemed she'd been doing a lot in the past half hour with him nearby. Then she felt his soft yet freezing fingers brush against her forehead, wiping a strand of damp sweaty hair off. Surprised, her eyelids flew up, and she saw him looking at her in the similar manner as an animal might look at its prey. It took all her strength not to scream out for help. Biting down on her lower lip she shut her eyes again, willing him to go away.

_Just leave me alone!_ she screamed in her mind. _I know who you are and I know what you're going to do. That's all I need to know. So just leave!_

Several moments passed and Ginny kept her eyes closed. Then she felt a cool breeze across her face and slowly opened them, raising herself up on her elbow. The door was open, letting in a cold draft from the hallway, and her room was empty. Tom Riddle had gone.

She breathed out a trembling sigh of relief and fell back onto her pillows. Now that he was gone she could think clearly again. All her sickness pains came back since she didn't have the fear to focus on, and almost immediately she could feel beads of sweat run down her face.

She replayed his visit in her mind. Oh, God, she'd acted like such a baby! She thought of a million things she could've done differently, of how she could've handled the situation much more like an adult. But she'd cringed like a frightened animal. He must think her weak – he probably thought he could make her do whatever she wished. She should've fought more when he'd told her that he was going to inspect her. She shouldn't have just laid down and taken it.

_Of course, I'm only thinking this now that the danger is passed_, she thought, breaking out into a coughing fit. _I'm sure I'll always act as I had when he's around._

And honestly, though she was ashamed of it, she couldn't really blame herself for being so terrified. She'd always felt a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach whenever someone mentioned Voldemort, even if they just called him You-Know-Who. And it hadn't been Voldemort that had been a threat to her – it'd been Tom Riddle. The young Tom Riddle, before he'd taken so many transformations and become the hideous Dark Lord.

Even before he'd transformed, though, he'd been powerful enough to preserve himself in a diary, preserve himself enough to take over Ginny's body and make her do what he wanted. That showed how much power he had, and how evil he was even when he was young. 

So just because he didn't look like Voldemort, and he clearly _wasn't_ Voldemort yet, that didn't mean he wasn't capable of harming her.

The more she thought about it, the more questions she had. The better part of her, the more hopeful part of her, kept wondering if he was really dangerous or not. After all, this was an alternate world. Harry, who had been a pretty powerful wizard himself, wasn't the same at all. He didn't have his powers and he didn't seem like himself. Of course, that was partly because his mother had been murdered much more brutally than she had been by Voldemort and he still had his father. 

So did that mean that Tom Riddle was just a normal, everyday doctor? He'd sure acted like it.

Except for at some points, when he'd let some of his anger show. Then she'd been absolutely terrified of him.

The other, more realistic part of her felt strongly that it was the same Tom Riddle that existed in the future. During first year, when she was beginning to suspect that perhaps it was him who was controlling her and making her do those horrible things, she'd felt oddly when she wrote to him in the diary. It felt as if someone was repeatedly rolling an ice cube down her spine, and her stomach had felt uneasy. That was exactly how she'd felt when he'd entered the room, except for quite a few more side effects, such as her throat closing off and wanting to throw up.

Ginny let her eyes fall closed and tried to shut off her thoughts, wanting nothing more than to sleep and forget about everything. But Maria came in a few minutes later, holding a silver goblet. She gently prodded Ginny awake. 

"Just drink this, my dear, and then you can sleep," Maria said soothingly. Ginny cut off a moan by sealing her lips and fought to sit up. Maria helped her and waited for her to get settled, then handed her the goblet. 

Ginny raised it to her mouth to begin drinking, but got a whiff of it. Making a face, and quickly lowered the goblet. "Oh, gross," she muttered. "What _is_ this stuff?"

Maria gave her a small smile. "Thomas prepared it for you. He said it well help you get better."

Ginny was incredibly slow, for it took her a moment to realize who Thomas was. Then she blurted, "You mean Tom Riddle?"

Maria looked slightly confused and said slowly, "Yes, Thomas Riddle."

"His name is Tom," Ginny murmured under her breath, glancing down at the pinkish liquid in the goblet. She remembered how Harry had once told her that when he rearranged his name, Tom Marvolo Riddle, it became I Am Lord Voldemort. If his name was Thomas that wouldn't work correctly. 

Maria opened her mouth as if she wanted to contradict, then thought better of it. 

Ginny started to hand the goblet back to her. There was no _way_ she was drinking something Tom Riddle had concocted. It was probably poisoned. Though, no matter how hard she racked her brain for all the information she'd learned about poisoned potions in Professor Snape's class, she couldn't remember ever hearing of a poison that looked like the substance in the goblet did. 

_This is an alternate world_, she reminded herself. _Plus Tom Riddle is more powerful than the average wizard. He can make whatever poison he wants. Besides, it doesn't even have to be a potion – he could've just put rat poison in it or something and managed to dissolve it using magic._

Then another thought struck her. Was this Tom magical? She had no idea. But her only guess was that yes, he probably was.

"Drink it, Highness," Maria insisted gently, ignoring how Ginny was holding it out to her.

"I won't drink it." Then Ginny started coughing suddenly, and it caused her body to convulse. Some of the pink liquid sloshed out of the side of the goblet and ran down her hand onto the bedspread.

Maria jumped up to find a rag to wipe it up. While she did, she scowled. Ginny realized she'd somehow angered her.

_I didn't think she'd get mad over a simple thing like spilled . . . whatever this is_, she thought, puzzled.

"Thomas told us how you reacted to him," Maria started, concentrating too hard on wiping the comforter clean. She rubbed in vigorously. "Said you snapped at him and wouldn't let him touch you."

Ginny's eyes widened. "I didn't _snap_ at him," she cried. "And besides, I didn't _want_ him touching me –"

"He's a doctor, for Heaven's sake, Ginny," Maria hissed, jerking her head up to meet Ginny's eyes. "He's one of the best doctors this world has ever known. You should be grateful that you get such care. If there is a way for you to get better, Thomas will find it."

Ginny swallowed, taken by surprise at Maria's harsh tone.

"Forgive me for saying so, Highness," she continued, "and I know I will regret saying this one day for it may cost me my job. But you are the _most_ spoiled person I've ever met in my entire lifetime. Just when you started acting rather normal for a few days, and I thought perhaps you were changing, you go and make a scene in front of one of the most highly respected and needed doctors in the world. You go and yell at him, tell him not to touch you, _insult his hands!_"

Ginny could not stop the bitter laugh that escaped her lips. "His hands?" she repeated incredulously. "You're mad at me because I insulted his bloody hands? I can't believe he even told you that!"

Something flashed through Maria's eyes before she looked back down and started to scrub the bed again. "He did not tell me," she said softly, clearly ashamed. "I was listening right outside the door."

Ginny blinked, unsure if she heard correctly. Maria could be fired for that! And she'd actually told Ginny? 

She swallowed, trying to rid the lump in her throat. "Okay," she said simply, uncertain of what else to say.

"Please forgive me, Highness," Maria whispered. "Your mother requested it. She wanted to be sure you did not embarrass her in front of such an important guest."

"Well, I guess I did," Ginny said flatly. "So you've gone and snitched to her all the stuff I said to _Thomas_?"

Maria's head flew up again. "No, I did not. I haven't had the chance."

"Stop that," Ginny said irritably, gently pushing Maria's hand and rag away from the bedspread. Then she sighed heavily. "Well, I'm exhausted. I'm going to sleep so I can have at least a few minutes peace before the que – uh, my mother comes in and screams herself hoarse at me."

She held out the goblet again for Maria to take, but she still refused to take it. "Drink it, please," she said firmly. "I trust Thomas – this will make you better."

The old warm sparkle was back in Maria's eyes, and Ginny felt relieved that she was no longer angry with her. But she was still slightly annoyed that she was going to go off and tell her mother all the things she'd said about Tom Riddle.

"I'm not leaving until you drink it," Maria said, crossing her arms and pretending to prepare for a long wait.

Ginny thought a moment. She really wanted to go to sleep and not be disturbed. Then she wouldn't have to worry about anything.

Besides, she was nearly ready to pass out. She really was being too active for someone who had pneumonia.

"How about this," she said sleepily. "I drink this and you don't tell Mother about all that stuff I said to the doctor."

Maria blinked. "Of course I won't tell her," she promised.

Ginny nodded, satisfied. Now she was just going to drink the blasted liquid so she could sleep. So what if she would never wake up again? It would be such a relief. Everything was going wrong in this life . . .

She tilted the goblet to her lips and drank, warily and slowly at first. The substance was deliciously cool and tasted like cherries – or strawberries, she could never tell the difference. It slid down her throat wonderfully and instantly she felt a bit cooler, as if she weren't sweating as much.

She drank all of it then handed the empty goblet to Maria. Then she laid her head down, barely hearing Maria leave the room.

_Well, if it was poison,_ she thought dreamily, _then I'll probably never wake up._

This thought did not keep her awake. Instead, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

A/N: Hmm, when will we see some D/G action? Soon, I do believe. So be patient all you D/G fans.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed:

**DarkKnight** (Thanks! I hope I answer all your questions soon), **Demeter** (I guess you'll just hafta see, won't you…? Heh heh), **Archer** (you know what else is great? Chapter 8 of Catenatus! ^__~) **Lavender James** (thanks, I'm happy you like it), **vicsamky** (you like cliffies?) **Rose Tangle** (that's actually a rather good idea…*starts thinking*) **LilyAyl** (glad you like it), **audig**, **red**, **bezebees,** **Smile, Tía Dot** (hope I didn't make you stay up too late :)) **Amy, Lucinda **(why thank you),** RosieG**, **Emiri-chan, Ginger, Melissa Belial Riddle **(I'm sorry, I'm just really not the extremely-long-chapter-writing type!), **Falkor Luckdragon** (Sigh…yes, I know, we do need some D/G action going on…soon, I hope), **Rachell **(hmm, perhaps they stay here forever…*evil laugh*), **Crystalline_Temptress**, **Athena Lionfire16** (to be honest I'm more mad at the queen right now…), **Rachel **(ahh, I don't think I got this up by Tuesday…lol), **silverarrows*****, **Dramafreak192844** (Christian Slater, yes, drool-worthy…), **Brooklyn Majestic**, **Zoemma, Calendar-chan**, **Your Worst Nightmare, Nox, Maddie Lupin** (*blushes*), **Rosandra May **(thank you :^D), **Joc, kitty, w&m_law** (oh so that's what happened…I was beginning to think you didn't like me anymore :P) **Erika, Water Sprite** (G/D is awesome), **Mionee, énigme** (yes, they weren't very clean back then, were they?), **littlebit, ItsJustMe, **and **Ashti **(anything for my fans :))

Happy holidays, everyone! The next chapter should be out sometime in January. Or perhaps sooner if I get encouragement ;)


	8. Through Sickness and in Health

Disclaimer: JKR owns it. A/N: Okay, I think this is the first chapter that deserves the R rating. There's a rather graphic scene here, so just beware. On a happier note . . . well, I don't wanna give it away, but all D/G fans should be made happy in a little part also. Chapter Eight _Through Sickness and in Health___

    "She may die," Ginny's mother, the queen, declared gently at dinner that night. 

    Draco looked up from his soup. He'd been half listening to the conversation between the queen and his father. She was telling him Ginny's condition, and she was making it seem a lot worse than it really was.

    "I told you we should have had more children, Robert," the queen commented quietly. She hadn't raised her voice much louder than a throaty whisper all evening. "If Ginny dies than who will take over for me as queen? I won't be able to retire as soon as I'd hoped."

    "You were right, dear," her husband replied absently, clearly barely paying attention. 

    Draco narrowed his eyes at the woman. She was really bothering him. She tried to pretend like she was concerned for Ginny, but all she was honestly worried about was being able to retire. Yet what irritated him most was that he was actually annoyed with her because she wasn't afraid for Ginny. Why should it bother him anyway? Why did he find himself so angry? He wasn't even sure whom or what he was angry at anymore. 

    "What did the doctor say this morning, then?" Draco's father asked suddenly.

    _Doctor, Draco thought. __Didn't Elle say that Dumbledore is a doctor?_

    For some reason, he'd forgotten all about the mention of Dumbledore. But it wasn't like he could help anyway. He was still in Wales, wasn't he?

    "He says he gave her something to drink and it may bring the fever down," the queen whispered. "He's been checking on her periodically all day and tells me she's been sleeping soundly, though she's still very warm."

    "So why hasn't the boy joined us for any meals today?" Ginny's father demanded. "Too busy checking on our _sleeping_ daughter to do anything else?"

    "Boy?" Draco blurted, drawing himself stares. He ignored them. Weren't doctors supposed to be men?

    "He can't be older than twenty-one," Robert answered gruffly, looking annoyed. Draco didn't know with whom.

    "He was out this afternoon in town," the queen said softly. "He had to visit another patient. And I believe now he's up checking on Ginny. Am I right, Maria?"

    Draco turned and saw Maria standing by the door to the kitchen, waiting to be given a task to do. She nodded once. "Yes, Majesty, that is correct."

    "Will you please tell him to come and join us?" the queen asked.

    Maria curtsied her answer and left the dinning hall. 

    The doctor didn't come down for something to eat. Maria reported that he said he wasn't hungry at the moment and would come down to the kitchens when he was.

    As Draco and Elle left the table later, she asked him eagerly, "Want to play outside in the snow?" 

    Draco almost answered no since he wanted to go and check on Ginny. But as he stared down into Elle's excited face, he relented and said yes. Besides, Ginny was probably still sleeping. And why would he want to go through another awkward scene like the night before?

    The sun was down, and it was cold. But they stuck close to the castle, so that light would spill from the windows. The moon was bright as well and they were able to see what they needed to.

    Draco knew he was being mean and that he was hurting Elle's feelings, but he refused to make a snowman with her, or to make snow angels. He hadn't done that since he was ten and he didn't plan on doing it now. It was way too childish and embarrassing, even if no one would see and it would please Elle.

    "You're no fun, Draco," Elle huffed, and stalked a few steps away before falling into the snow and making angels by herself. 

    Draco leaned back against the castle wall, his arms crossed, and kept an eye on her. After about fifteen minutes she became cold and bored and wanted to go back inside. He knew she wouldn't last long.

    As they walked back into the castle, Elle let out a huge yawn. Draco figured it was probably time for her to go to bed. "Change out of those wet clothes," he told her, "and go to bed. I don't want you to get sick like Wea – Ginny."

    "Wea – Ginny?" Elle repeated, giving him a very Malfoyish smirk. She stopped walking and planted her hands on her hips. Draco paused and looked down at her. "Did you almost call her Weasley?"

    "Nothing gets by you," he muttered.

    "I guess that doesn't really matter. But how do you know it was the cold that got Ginny sick?"

    "I don't," he said, almost truthfully. "I'm just guessing."

    "Have you met the doctor yet? He's really handsome."

    "That was a rather abrupt change of subject," Draco sneered. "Are you just stalling so you won't have to go to bed?"

    "No," she said, jutting out her lower lip in a pout. Then she brightened (Draco thought she changed emotions more than a woman who was pregnant). "Will you tuck me in?"

    He stared blankly at her. No one had ever asked him that before. For some reason it made him feel a bit warm on the inside. "Can't you do it yourself?" he asked, still sneering.

    She didn't look upset at his teasing. "Yes. But I want you to do it. You haven't done it in a while and I don't want to ask Father. He always says no anyway."

    Draco felt a little bad for her. She was, in a way, a lot like him. Not just because they looked similar. Because she, like Draco, had a cold father, and she had no mother. Draco's mother had barely any backbone and never helped her son out. It was as if she were dead. He honestly wouldn't mind if she was. 

    "All right," Draco agreed with a sigh. She grinned her delight and grabbed his hand, leading him to her room.

    One of the servants dressed her into her nightgown. Draco was beyond relieved that he didn't have to do it. Then the servant left and Elle jumped into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. 

    Draco made it as brief as possible. He blew out all the candles hurriedly and carried the final one over to her bedside. "Goodnight, Elle," he said, quickly running his hand over her silky hair. He turned to leave when she called out to him.

    "Wait, Draco. Aren't you going to give me a kiss?"

    He cringed inwardly. _Well_, he thought, _at least she didn't ask for a story._ He faced her again and leaned down, kissing her forehead hurriedly and straightening. "Goodnight," he repeated, and once again started to leave.

    "Gosh, Draco, you're lips are so cold," she called after him, as if it were his fault.

    He didn't reply, shutting the door firmly behind him. Since candles lighted the hall already, he blew the one out that was in his hand. For some reason, he couldn't get Elle's words out of his mind. His lips weren't _that_ cold, were they? 

    _Does it matter?_ he asked himself, and, as he rounded a corner, threw the candle with its holder at the wall. He watched it bounce off to the floor with a clatter, the candle snapping in half and the holder rolling away. _That's what servants are for anyway_, he thought, _to clean up after me._

    Since he was busy looking at where the candle had fallen, he did not see the other person directly in front of him who was also turning the corner. Draco jumped a bit when he smacked into something and bounced back slightly, surprised at the sudden barrier. 

    "I am very sorry," apologized a sincere sounding voice. "I did not see you."

    "Well, no shit," Draco retorted. He, being sort of short for someone his age, had to look up to see the person's face. It was a young man, probably not many years older than himself, with black hair and dark blue eyes. Draco thought he looked rather familiar, but couldn't put a finger on where he'd seen him. "You should watch where you're going next time."

    The man didn't look angry, but there was a menacing look in his eyes as he stared down at Draco with a forced smile. "Forgive me, Draco," he said, and started to walk on.

    Draco turned and watched him leave. "Draco?" he called after him. "Aren't you supposed to be calling me Highness?"

    The man rotated and walked slowly backwards so he could face Draco. "Doctors call people by their first names," he said with a hint of amusement, "royalty or no."

    _Doctor?_ he thought. How could he be a doctor when he hardly looked much older than Draco? _And_ _why does he look so familiar? Where have I seen him before? Is he from the future, maybe, and I just can't remember where I've met him?_ "So you're the doctor," Draco said, smirking. "Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you," he ordered while the doctor continued to move.

    He stopped abruptly. "As you wish," he said quietly, his voice laced with ice and venom.  Draco was slightly annoyed. Who did this doctor think he was, acting as though _he_ were the prince? 

    Draco stepped slowly towards him, watching as he crossed his arms slowly and waited. He couldn't help but notice that the man had long fingers. "What illness does Ginny have?" Draco demanded suddenly, stopping in front of him.

    "I cannot tell," the man replied smoothly. "I gave her something to drink this morning that will hopefully have her well soon. Now, if you do not mind, Draco, I am hungry, being that I have not eaten all day. May I leave?"

    "One more question." Draco was enjoying the irritated look on the doctor's face very much. _Why does he look more and more like someone I know when he gets that expression?_ he wondered, then asked, "What's you're name?"

    "Thomas Riddle," he answered, almost quickly. "Good night," he added, bowing shortly, then turned and walked away.

    Draco forced his eyebrows together in confusion. "Thomas _Riddle_?" he echoed to no one. That was certainly the last person he'd expected to smack in to. Well, maybe not, considering Tom Riddle was a young Voldemort, and it would almost make sense.

    _No it doesn't_, he suddenly realized. _Voldemort's dead. The great and wonderful Potter defeated him. There's no way he could've been able to send Ginny and me, along with a younger version of himself, back in time to an alternate world if he's dead. Is there?_

    Draco slowly began to walk down the corridor, heading towards his room. _Thomas_ Riddle's arrival only made things more difficult to understand. Was it the _real_ Riddle? A younger Lord Voldemort? Or a real doctor from this time who unfortunately was cursed with that name and resembled someone – 

    _Potter_, Draco realized in an instant. That's who Riddle reminds me of. Potter.

    The more he tried to sort things out in his mind, the more confused he became. He had no idea what Tom Riddle looked like – the Riddle from the future. And it could be just a coincidence that this doctor had the last name Riddle, being that his first name was _not_ Tom . . . _But then again Tom is short for Thomas_, he realized. _And if it is a coincidence then why does he look like Harry? Another coincidence?_

    At that point, Draco was almost willing to believe anything was possible. After all, he'd never thought in his wildest dreams that he'd wake up a prince nearly four hundred years in the past. Yet here he was, a prince in the seventeenth century. So why the hell couldn't it be a coincidence that the doctor had the same name as the darkest and most evil wizard from the future and just happened to look like Harry?

    Draco sighed, stopping in mid walk and shaking his head to clear his thoughts. Maybe he'd just go see Ginny. Hadn't she been through a major ordeal with Tom Riddle during her first year at Hogwarts?

    Maybe she knew what he looked like.

    Draco found himself hurrying to Ginny's room. When he got there he found Maria outside the door in a chair, her head tilted back against the wall, snoring rather loudly. He was aware that it was getting a bit late, and that all chances were that Ginny was still sound asleep. But he didn't care; he'd wake her up. He wanted to know what she thought of the whole doctor situation, being that she had probably already had a run-in with Thomas Riddle by now.

    He pushed the door open and stepped in. Maria slept on, even though he shut the door behind him rather loudly. 

    A few candles on the candelabra dimly lit the room. Draco crossed to the bed and paused before he shook Ginny awake; something made him stop. He could barely see her in the shadows, just a lump in the covers, her mass of red hair spilling over the pillows. Everything seemed still and quiet.

    Frowning for some reason he couldn't describe, he stepped over to the table and grabbed the candelabra, returning to the bedside. He couldn't see her very clearly – she was under what seemed like piles of blankets and her hair seemed to be everywhere, covering her face. Why did he need to see her anyway? He came here to ask her questions, not to stare at her while she slept.

    He set the candles back down on the bedside table. Then he reached out and gently prodded her. "Ginny," he said quietly. She didn't move at all, not so much as a moan or a stir. Sighing, he leaned farther over and gripped her by the shoulders. He shook her harder than he intended to. "Ginny!" he repeated sharply, feeling annoyed.

    It was as though she snapped awake. One moment she was still and limp, the next she let out a hoarse shriek and was thrashing about under his grasp. 

    "Leave me _alone_!" she cried. Draco released her and straightened, surprised at her sudden viciousness. He watched, halfway between shocked and amused, as she struggled to sit up in a hurry, trying to get her wild hair out of her face so she could see. Her eyes finally settled on him and she let out what sounded like a relieved breath, slumping back against the headboard of the bed. "It's only you," she whispered, her breathing ragged from effort. 

    "Damn, Ginny, who'd you _think_ it was?" Draco demanded. "Were you having a nightmare or something?"

    She stared up at him, her dark eyes bleak. Then she laughed hollowly. "This whole _thing_ is a nightmare," she said, running a hand over her forehead. "I don't need to be asleep to witness it."

    "Okay," he said slowly. He wanted to change the subject to why he came. He honestly didn't want to sit and hear her whine about how terrible everything was in this world. "I assume you've met the doctor, right?" he asked after a second passed.

    "Have you?" she shot back, looking interested in his reaction.

    "Yes. You know what his name is?"

    She narrowed her eyes at him, though not in an angry manner. As if she were trying to figure something out. Then she leaned forward and said quietly, "I can tell you his entire name, his birthday, his grade average throughout his years at Hogwarts, and his favorite and least favorite professors during his time."

    Draco met her gaze for a long time before speaking again, trying to word his thoughts. "Are you sure its Riddle as in _Lord Voldemort_ Riddle?" he asked, absently getting onto his knees so he could be closer to her level, resting his elbows on the mattress. "The Dark Lord is dead. How could he have sent his real self, from many years ago, into the past along with the both of us -?"

    "He's Voldemort, Draco," she interrupted dully. "He can accomplish most things most can't, even in death."

    A bit ruffled at being cut off, he continued coldly, "Not everyone here is as they are from our time. Potter isn't. And unless Dumbledore's been keeping secrets about being a doctor, which is very unlike him to do, then I'd have to say he was different as well –"

    "Wait. Dumbledore?" Ginny looked puzzled. Draco noted that her eyes were focusing a little better and had a slight sparkle back in them. Was it because she was getting better? 

    He nodded once, distracted. "Chances are that this Riddle isn't like the one from the future –"

    "Dumbledore's here?" Ginny cut in, lowering her voice to a raspy whisper. 

    "Elle mentioned him the first day at breakfast," Draco told her briefly, wanting to get back to explaining his reasoning. 

    "And he's a doctor?" she went on before he could say anything else.

    "Does it matter?" Draco asked, letting his annoyance show.

    "Yes!" she exploded angrily. She sat up straighter and suddenly seemed to tower over him. He got to his feet, feeling he should be the taller one. "Dammit, Draco, Dumbledore's been here the entire time and you haven't _told_ me?"

    "He's in Wales," Draco explained monotonously, bored. "I've never seen him but Elle says he's there. Not to mention I _forgot_ about him –"

    But Ginny was no longer listening. "He's been here," she was muttering, and Draco figured she was talking to herself, "the whole time. He's a doctor and I'm sick. And instead of someone I trust looking over me," she hissed, glancing up and meeting him square the in eyes, showing that she was indeed speaking to him, "I get the one person who I'm absolutely _terrified_ of. All because you fucking forgot about him?"

    Draco hadn't expected Ginny to get so mad. Especially when the day before she'd looked sick enough to pass out if she so much as raised her voice. "Listen, Weasley –" he started, glaring at her.

    "No, _you_ listen, Draco," she snapped harshly. It was amazing how intimidating she looked seated amongst frilly white pillows and mounds of velvet blankets. "I can put up with some things you do. I can put up with how you put down me and my family. I can put up with how you hate me. I can put up with how you treat me. I can even put up with the bastard person you are. But this . . . this I can't put up with."

    Draco stared at her, unable to believe what she just said. "_What_?" he shouted. "What the hell are you _talking_ about?"

    "You knew that Dumbledore was a doctor and he was here!" she retorted. "I don't care if you forgot about him; the instant you heard I was sick you should have requested him!"

    "I didn't –" he started, trying to defend himself.

    "You don't know what it was like," she went on, oblivious to what he was saying. "You don't know what it was like to have him in here, flesh and blood, real and in person. I could feel him, I could smell him, I could hear him . . . it was ten times worse than what happened in my first year. I know that once you heard about how your father so innocently dropped Tom's diary into one of my old books and I used it, you laughed for days, but it was hard for me. You don't know what the feeling is like knowing that something's terribly wrong with you, that you're doing terrible things to students and you don't know how. And imagine the shock I got –"

    "Ginny, _I don't care_!" Draco exploded, throwing his hands up. "I just don't _care_! So you don't have to tell me about it!"

    "Of course you don't care!" she screamed back, starting to go red in the face. _If she doesn't calm down she might really hurt herself_, Draco thought, and found that he was glad. Then maybe she'd shut up and leave him alone. But she didn't shut up. "You don't care about _anything_! You know why? It's because your family sucks, you've never had any friends, and nobody _cares_ about you!"

    He clenched his hands into his fists at his sides, never wanting to hit someone so badly. Though he forced himself not to – he'd regret it later, and he couldn't hit a girl, especially a sick one. He couldn't ever hit something that couldn't fight back. 

    And Ginny still wasn't through. "You wonder why no one gives a shit about you, right, Malfoy?" she taunted. "It's because you're a terrible person! It hurts, does it, Malfoy, to be told the truth? I'm sure you lie awake every night and wonder about what it would be like if your life was different, about what you can do to change it! But you know something? Even in a totally different world you're still an ass, and nobody likes you -!"

    He could tell that she was just shouting stuff at him to hurt him. Yet it wasn't hurting him – it was just _annoying_ him. Would she ever shut up? Her voice was giving him a headache. He closed his eyes and tried to have patience.

    "The worst thing is, though, Malfoy, is that –" 

    "Oh, will you _shut up_?!" He couldn't take anymore. 

    "No! I'm not done yet!" she yelled. "You're only human, Malfoy . . . or maybe you _aren't_ –"

    She was driving him insane. And if he didn't do anything else, he'd hit her. So, without a word, he sat down on her bedside and placed both of his hands over her ears. 

    "What are you doing -?" she started to ask, but was cut off when he yanked her face towards his and placed his mouth on hers.

    He'd just done it so she'd be quiet, just so he wouldn't have to listen to her voice anymore. It was the first thing that came to his mind, and it was _stupid. _Because as soon as he touched her, it was like an eruption between them. 

    Every previous annoyance flew from Draco's mind at that moment. There was a little warning in the back of his head, like a very faint red light, reminding him of how he shouldn't be doing this, and not only because she was sick. It was because, even though he hadn't realized it before, he'd wanted to kiss her for a long time. And he _shouldn't_ be kissing her, it was wrong and it shouldn't be . . .

    Her lips were surprisingly soft. The moment the kiss began she responded immediately, as though she'd been expecting it. She wrapped her arms around his neck to try and pull him closer. The way she clung to him, the way her lips worked . . . it was like she needed him, that he was the only thing keeping her sane. Which seemed very ironic, since he thought he was the one thing that drove her out of her mind. 

    _I shouldn't be doing this_, he thought. He could feel the nape of her neck, could feel the sweat on her skin, dampening her hair. He could even taste the saltiness on her mouth. _She's sick, I could catch it . . . not to mention this is _Ginny Weasley _I'm snogging . . ._

    He continued to ignore his voice of reason, just because he didn't _want_ to stop. It felt surprisingly wonderful to kiss her, to feel her skin underneath his fingers. By the way she was running her hands through his hair and kissing him back with force, he could tell that she must've been enjoying it as much as he was. 

    He finally came to his senses at that, dropping his hands down to his sides and breaking away. Ginny seemed to hold her arms around his neck for a bit longer than necessary, until she realized he wanted to pull away from her, and she removed them. He watched her face, almost smirking at the brilliant color red she was turning. 

    There was a long, awkward silence. Draco didn't know if he should leave or not. Half of him just wanted to kiss her again. _And that half is wrong_, he thought. _I will _not_ kiss her again._

    He still wanted to.

    "Draco," she finally said, looking down at the comforter and picking at an imaginary thread. "I'm sorry about those things I just said to you."

    "I don't care," he told her truthfully. 

    He saw her staring at him out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to meet her gaze. _Oh, wonderful, now she'll start yelling again_, he figured, standing up and preparing to leave.

    "Where are you going?" she asked instead of starting off about how he didn't care about anything again.

    "To bed," he answered curtly. Then he stopped suddenly, remembering something. He whirled and leaned back down over Ginny, placing one hand on the bedpost to keep his balance. "Can I ask you something?"

    She looked a little surprise at how close his face was. "You just did," she said.

    He gave her an impatient look, and proceeded to ask his question. "Are my lips cold?"

    She blinked, then stared into his eyes, as if trying to read his mind. For a long time she didn't reply, until she opened her mouth slowly and whispered, "No, they're really warm, actually." 

    Draco jerked up instantly, surprised at her response. An unknown feeling shivered through him, and he broke his gaze from hers and spun around. He forced himself to calmly, as though nothing was wrong, walk to the door and leave, closing it casually behind him. 

    He ran a hand through his hair and thought shakily, _I need something cold to drink._

* * *

Ginny was feeling better.

    She'd felt better the moment Draco had shaken her awake. Oh, the fever was still there, and her throat still felt raw and sore, but she could definitely hint a change. She didn't seem to be sweating as much – at least, she didn't once Draco left.

    She sat in her bed for a long time after he exited the room, her mind running over what had just happened between them. He'd _kissed_ her. He'd willingly kissed her. As if he had wanted to.

    Had he? Or had he just done it to get her to stop talking? Even if he had, he didn't have to keep it going so long, or return it so fiercely. 

    She moaned and buried her hot face in her hands. Things just kept getting more complicated. One second she was worrying about Harry, the next about Tom Riddle, and the next about why Draco kissed her. 

    _I'd give anything to wake up back at Hogwarts and have schoolwork the only thing that's bothering me_, she thought, grabbing a pillow and wrapping her arms around it, resting her chin on the top. _Why has this happened to me? Will it ever end?_

    At that point, she didn't even _care_ that Harry was better off. She wanted things back the way they were. They weren't so bad for the future Harry, anyway, were they? He had friends, he had money . . . he wasn't completely miserable, as she was in this world. He'd survive, while if she continued staying here, she's surely go mad and kill herself.

    Draco didn't know it, but he'd only worsened things when he kissed her. It'd been wonderful when it'd happened, she couldn't deny that. He'd been surprisingly gentle, though she was aware of a sense of passion deep within him. While it had been amazing then, that sense scared her now, looking back on it. Draco, having passion for her? When not ten minutes ago they'd been fighting and shouting at each other? 

    Now she was just confused. The kiss had probably meant nothing. She'd most likely misinterpreted it. He'd just done it to quit her shrieking, and it'd served its purpose perfectly.

    Only it'd made Ginny's princess life, however low it'd been before, a lot more difficult. 

* * *

The next morning, Maria came in, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks. She tended to Ginny for nearly five minutes, patting her forehead with a cool wet cloth, before Ginny couldn't take it anymore.

    "What _happened_?" she asked, and then gave a brief cough.

    "Something terrible," Maria sniffled. "Another family has been murdered."

    Ginny sat up straighter. She pushed Maria's hand away, not wanting to be bothered with the wet cloth anymore. Besides, she was feeling somewhat cooler since the night before. "How many people?" she breathed.

    "Eight," she replied, swallowing. "The youngest was only an infant."

    _It's Tom!_ she thought instantly. _Tom's been doing this! I know he has! Only he would do something so terrible, so awful . . ._ "Does anyone have a clue as to who it is that's doing the killing?" Ginny demanded shrilly.

    "No," Maria said, reaching into one of her apron's pockets and producing a hankie. She blew her nose loudly. "No one has any idea. Your parents have been gone all night, trying to get to the bottom of this tragedy. They may not be back for another few hours."

    _Oh, boo-hoo_, Ginny thought, far more concerned about the poor murdered family. She had no idea what sort of technology they had in this time, had no idea if they had any means of finding criminals besides witnessing them committing the crime. It was frustrating, too, because she knew that no one would believe that the great and wonderful Doctor Thomas Riddle was the one killing these innocent people.

    _Maybe Maria will_, she realized, watching her maid as she bustled about the room, cleaning imaginary dust from the furniture, sniffing occasionally. _Maria trusts me, doesn't she? Just because she thinks I'm spoiled doesn't mean that she won't believe me._

    In her heart she seriously doubted that Maria would even begin to consider the possibility of "Thomas" being a murderer. She'd been furious when Ginny had insulted him – how would she react when she accused him of killing?

    "D'you . . ." Ginny began carefully. Maria stopped moving and turned to face her.

    "Do I what, dear?" she asked with forced brightness, giving a small smile, her cheeks glistening with tears. It encouraged Ginny to keep going.

    "D'you think it's possible that . . . that, well, that Doctor Thomas could be killing these people?" 

    Maria gasped so greatly that Ginny was amazed at how much breath she inhaled into her lungs. Throwing a hand over her heart, she quickly said, "Highness Virginia! I cannot believe you! Doctor Thomas _gives_ life, he does not take it!"

    _Shoulda kept my mouth shut_, Ginny figured. "I know, you're right," she hurriedly admitted. 

    Maria relaxed slightly, but stared sternly at Ginny. "I know you do not like Thomas very much," she said. "Lord knows you don't like _any_ good man very well –" _If she's also referring to Draco, strike me dead now_, Ginny thought dryly. " – But he would not commit a murder. He has absolutely _no_ reason to – he's successful, well-liked, attractive, rich . . . he would not do anything so terrible."

    "Okay, forget I said anything," Ginny snapped.

    Maria appeared not to have heard her. "Doctor Thomas is the most gentle man I've ever encountered in my life. He certainly is not the type who would murder pointlessly."

    "It's always the quiet ones," Ginny muttered under her breath.

    "What?" Maria cocked her head to one side, as if it would help her hear better.

    "Never mind!" Ginny cried. "I just want to go to sleep!"

    "Of course you do," Maria said, in a gentler tone. "I'm sorry for yelling, Highness. But Thomas will be returning shortly to –"

    As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Maria told the person to enter, and Riddle stepped in, holding a silver goblet. He nodded politely with a smile in Maria's direction, and then settled his dark blue eyes on Ginny. 

    The minute she locked gazes with him, she blinked. Her entire body seemed to jerk. Blinking again, she found a picture printed on the back of her eyelids. 

    _What is this?_ she thought, her heard suddenly thudding loudly in her chest. _What's going on?_

    Her eyes closed firmly; a scene was beginning to unfold before her. She was suddenly standing in a rather plain room, though in actuality she knew she wasn't – she could feel herself still seated firmly on her bed. And yet she could see Tom, a few feet away, no longer standing in the doorway of her bedroom, but in the middle of the much barer room. The look on his face was horrifying – it was a mad, almost gleeful expression. He was smiling down at a little boy on the floor, who was raising his arms over his face to protect himself.  

    It was as though she were there, as though she was standing right in the midst of it. But how could she be, when she could feel her body still sitting in her bed?

    The colors were of everything in the room, the Tom and the boy included, were off, and everything seemed slanted and bigger than usual. The vision was slightly blurred on the edges, proving that it had to be some sort of dream and wasn't real.

    But the fear was real. And the sounds. And the smell . . .

    "Please," the young boy was now whispering up at Tom, flinching slightly as Tom leaned forward on one foot, closer to him. "Please, mister, don't hurt me."

    Ginny's hand fluttered up to her mouth, and she looked down and noticed the long dagger in Tom's hand. The silver of the blade was stained with red blood, still wet, still cooling . . .

    Her heart seemed to contract in her chest, but she was unable to make any sounds. She wanted nothing more than to stop what was about to come, but she wasn't even really there. How could she prevent it?

    Suddenly, the view seemed to change – Ginny now got a good look at the entire room. Then she could make noises; she couldn't stop the strangled cry that came from her throat. Though if Tom heard it, he made no signs to acknowledge it. _If I'm not here, then there's no way he could hear me_, she thought. Or, more like prayed.

    The room was clearly small, simple, with dirt for flooring. It seemed like it'd been pleasant and cozy at one point, but not anymore. There was blood everywhere . . . on the table, on the tools that hung on the walls, on the ground, mingling with the dirt . . .

    There were also limp bodies everywhere. Frighteningly, most of them were children, two of them adults, their throats slashed. Various places on their bodies oozed blood as well. What was more terrifying was they all had his or her eyes open, staring vacantly at the ceiling, or at the wall. Staring, but never to see again. 

    The sound of a wailing baby filled Ginny's ears. She moved her eyes under their lids and saw a wooden cradle in the corner. Clearly there was a baby in it, screaming, its hands waving in the air, its feet kicking up. It seemed to be the only living thing left except for the boy and Tom. But then –

    "Tom, hurry up," came a scruffy sounding voice. In the doorway to another room, an unidentifiable head stuck peeked in. "This kid won't stay still."

    _Kid? What kid?_ Ginny wondered, absolutely mortified. She didn't know what was happening. She wanted it to end. Her stomach was rumbling, and she felt as though she were going to vomit. All the blood . . . she could smell it, nearly taste it . . . how could she not be there and yet experience it as though she were?

    "Bring her in here," Tom said slowly, never taking his stare from the cowering little boy on the ground before him. "So she can watch what I'm doing to her brother."

    The person's head disappeared for a moment into the darkness of the next room. Then, grunting, the figure returned, except this time with another, smaller person. He held a young girl, probably only a little older than the boy on the floor, with golden curls and a tear-streaked face. She struggled with her captor, trying to free herself, but the short and stout man, who wore dark robes, gripped her upper arms hard and kept a good hold.

    "Quit moving, stupid," the man hissed at her, nudging her from behind. 

    "I wouldn't try to escape if I were you," Tom said, finally looking over his shoulder at them. "Watch what I'm doing to your little brother here . . . I'll be doing it to you in a moment."

    Then he spun around without warning and reached down, getting a handful of the boy's hair. He yanked the sobbing and screeching boy, who could be no older than five, into the air and held him high. The poor boy kicked and struggled in vain to free himself.

    Ginny watched in horror, terror freezing her body in place, as Tom stretched his arm back, the hand gripping the dagger tightly. In one swift movement, to the sound of the girl's loud scream, he swung his arm forward and dug the dagger deep into the side of the boy's throat.

    It had to be the worst thing Ginny had ever experienced. Her heart seemed to cry out along with the girl, and she wanted nothing more than to run from the room. She'd seen enough, she didn't need anymore . . . she couldn't _stomach _anymore. But her eyes couldn't obey her command – they were glued to what was unfolding before her.

    The boy tensed as soon as the dagger penetrated his throat. Then, his eyes opened wide, staring at the ceiling, he relaxed, his arms dropping with almost slowly to his sides. Then he hung limply, dead.

    If Ginny could've screamed like some uncontrollable banshee, she would have. Though the girl was shrieking loud enough for the both of them, as she jerked and pulled and tried to get out of the man's grasp. 

    And still, Tom was not done. The boy was already dead, but he tore the blade all the way around the boy's throat, digging so deeply he nearly decapitated him. It made a horrible ripping noise as the sharp end sliced through, like the sound of someone gutting a fish.

    At this, Ginny opened her mouth and let out a long, loud wail. She didn't care how much noise she was making, even if she was still back in her bedroom and causing Maria to wonder what was wrong with her. It was just so _horrible . . ._  

    Then there was more blood. Blood pouring from the boy's open neck, spilling onto the floor, spurting onto Tom's clothing and the occasional drip on his face. He seemed not to even notice – he was still smiling with satisfaction.

    He released the boy's hair, dropping him to the floor in a heap of blood and flesh. Then he turned, the dagger once again by his side, and faced the girl. She'd been yelling and crying up until that point, when she just went slack and stared up at him. Tears poured down her face without her even sobbing, and Ginny could tell she was so frightened she couldn't make a sound.

    "You're next, my dear," Tom said in a terribly pleasant voice.

    _No!_ Ginny wanted to scream. _No more! I can't take it! Get me out of here!_

    She forced her eyes open and heave to the side. Blinking several times, she noted with immense relief that she was back in her room, sitting in her bed, no blood anywhere. Sweat was pouring down her face, and her heart was thudding so hard she was nearly afraid it would burst from her chest.

    Maria was beside her, one hand on her arm. "Highness? Highness, are you all right? You were screaming!"

    Ginny took on look at her, and her stomach convulsed. She leaned over the side of the bed and dry heaved, unable to vomit anything of material. Even though she was back, safe, in her room, she couldn't get the images out of her mind . . . couldn't get the girl's screams out of her ears, couldn't stop seeing the boy's neck be ripped apart by the dagger, couldn't stop thinking about it . . .

    "Let me have a look at her," Tom's calm voice said, sounding far away. Ginny suddenly remembered he was there, and sat up straight, the earlier relief of being back in her room vanishing from her bones. She instantly tensed.

    "No," she whispered. "No, I'm fine."

    "You are not fine!" Maria cried vehemently. "You closed your eyes and went rigid, and started screaming as though someone was ripping you from limb to limb!"

    "Honestly, I'm fine," Ginny insisted hoarsely, staring at Tom warily. He had stopped walking towards them and was now standing in the middle of the room, looking unsure if he should continue or stay where he was. _Stay_, her mind pleaded. _Don't move any closer to me._

    "Doctor, is she all right?" Maria asked, twisting at the waist to glance at him.

    "If she says she is . . ." Tom trailed off, frowning. Ginny stared hard at him. She knew what he really was. She'd witnessed how cold-hearted he was, how he murdered that unfortunate little boy, and had probably done the same thing to the entire family. How could he look so different now? How could he act so casual? Why was he even _pretending _to be concerned for her? "But you did look a fright, Ginny," he added after a moment.

    "I'm telling you, I'm _all right_," Ginny gritted out through clenched teeth. She didn't realize she had grabbed Maria's hand until she gave a little squeak of pain, signaling that Ginny was squeezing her fingers too hard. She loosened her grip but did not let go. "I just need some sleep," she continued.

    Tom's mouth settled into a gentle smile. "Just take this first," he told her, holding out the goblet as he crossed to the bed. Now he was standing right beside her, and she forced herself not to shake. She narrowed her eyes at the cup, then at him, knowing very well he wanted her to grab it from him. _It must be more of that pink potion stuff he gave me yesterday_, she realized when the scent hit her nostrils. _It clearly wasn't poison, or I'd be dead . . ._ Yet she knew there was still a strong possibility it _was_ poison, and it would just take a few days to settle into her system.

    _He probably wants to kill me slowly and painfully_, she thought, her imagination running away with her. _So he'll poison me bit by bit, letting me die in agony . . ._

    "If I take it," Ginny finally said, "then will you never step foot out of this castle without my permission?"

    Maria gave a fluttering, nervous laugh, clearly embarrassed at Ginny's request. She tried to pat Ginny's knee, but missed and got her shin instead, being her legs were hidden under the blankets. "All right, Highness, just drink it. Then you can sleep."

    Ginny just didn't want any more murders while she slept. And she was deathly terrified that if there were more killings that she'd witness them again, through the same strange vision. For the moment she didn't really care that she'd demanded Tom Riddle stay within the walls of the same house with her, only a scream away. She just did not want him leaving and killing another family.

    "Promise me," she said fervently, "that you won't leave, at least until I wake up. Promise –"

    "Highness, you are being ridiculous," Maria interrupted, flashing her a stern look with her black eyes. "Just drink and sleep."

    Ginny could see there was no room for argument. Both Tom and Maria were staring at her, waiting for her to drink it. She felt her shoulders loosen up and she sighed in defeat. It wasn't her problem anyway – she'd worry about it once she was well.

    She grabbed the goblet a bit more violently than necessary and drank from it.

* * *

A/N: This fic is turning out a bit darker than I anticipated, _but_ . . . it will get happier once Draco and Ginny start to, eh, fall in love . . . not to give away the _plot_ or anything . . . By the way, I'd keep an eye out on the characters, Tom's little accomplice in crime is someone we've already met before. We may not know who it is until later chapters, though, just to keep you guessing ::wicked grin::

Thanks, Christine! Hugs for you!

And thanks to everyone who reviewed this time:

w&m_law - oooh! A wedding in Heart! Can't wait! ::squeals:: Not that really had anything to do with your review, but anyways . . .

Gryffingirl – More Harry later . . . I hope to somehow wiggle him into the plot :)

Your Worst Nightmare – isn't it, though? Ha, I love keeping you wondering!!

SailorChibi – Okay, okay, there's more soon!

HarryPotterCC1 – I must admit, that is a very nice fantasy . . .

Becca – you'll just have to wait and find out, won't you? ^__^

Archer – sorry to deprive you of Draco; I gave you some of him in this chapter, though I realize it's not _nearly_ enough ^__~

Teal llama – D/G _does_ work, pity that JKR doesn't see it . . .

Melissa Belial Riddle – Why thank you. I was afraid it was going down the tubes ::bites nails nervously::

Wildmajik – sorry it took so long!

Salem – thanks! Of course I'll keep writing more :^D

Audig – Sorry it took me so long to "write more" ;)

The Jade Princess – Hi Ginger! Yes, grade 8 is wonderful, isn't it . . . ? Um, I'm being sarcastic. Anyway, thanks! And you'll find out who brought them here in time, don't fret.

Silveray and Sister Nature – thanks! Will do!

Alanna Lea Potter – Do you? Thank you very much :)

Night Spirit – for some very odd reason, I can't really write a fic at Hogwarts. And thanks!

Crash override – thank you!

TheGirlWhoLived – Ginny will eventually get better, of course, and you'll just have to see about Tom . . .

Arya – thanks!

Mionee – Glad to make you happy! Sorry it took a bit to get this chapter out.

Zimmy Russell – Gah, the only reason I posted this in January is because I really couldn't do it any sooner. Now that school's started back up . . . anyway, I'm glad you like it :)

Rose Tangle – First of all, thanks for the wonderful review! Second, I did just a bit of research (well, okay, my beta did, since I couldn't find anything) and she reported that the first case of pneumonia was in the 1800's. Third, you're quite right about "reaching their feelings" at the same time. Unfortunately, I wasn't as smart as you ::grin:: and it's kinda too late to change it. And fourth, I'm glad that I surprised you with Tom. So thanks again!

Kitty – hmm, maybe Tom is magic, maybe not . . .

Dramafreak192844 – I'm majorly drooling over them both, fear not . . . 

Maddie Lupin – heh, that is kinda funny! 

Littlebit – sorry it took you a while to read, but I get so many request for _longer_ chapters . . . I guess you just can't win, hmm? Well, it's sorta late now, but a belated Merry Christmas to you as well.

Nox - ::huggles back:: I'm glad I inspired you! I'm honored that I'm your fav author here ::blushes::

Vicsamky – This wasn't really a cliffie, now, was it? LOL. Hope that the little D/G action there was in this chapter satisfied you for now.

Bunny – Didn't really continue it _soon_, but, thanks a bundle anyway.

LilyAyl – Wow, you know what? I think you've read my mind. I don't want to give too much away, but I was originally thinking about, um, the last question you had (go read your review again if you don't remember), but lately I've been kinda thinking otherwise. But I might still do that, you never know ^__~

Fernanda – thank you much!

Ingenious – I'm glad you like it ;)

Twink – Hee hee, thanks! Happy that you like the way I write the characters.

Tangerine Caprigrrl – Curse school! If not for it then I could stay up all night and sleep all day! Er, anyway, I would dearly love to publish it, but honestly, JKR would never let me, so I'll just post here instead :)

Swedishgirl – Just wait, I plan to include some very juicy, heated snogging in this story, though not until later. I also think that G/H works, but frankly, I never read it. Well, not much anymore, anyway.

NightangelTS – Tom isn't _exactly_ his normal self, and about Draco . . . well, you'll just have to see who everyone really is.

SOmEoNeSpEcIaL – thank you!

Nebula – thanks, glad you like it so much :^D

ally_moore – thank _you_!

Annabelle Peach – LOL, they won't _kill_ each other . . .

FireSprite – why thank you, Emma. Sorry to scare you with Tom ^__^

Dorthey Star – Don't worry, D/G will get together soon . . . er, you are a D/G fan, right? I like D/Hr, but I know some people who are D/Hr detest D/G just . . . cuz. Okay, I'm babbling, thanks for the review!

Miss – I'm writing more, don't worry!

Calender-Chan – of course, of course :)

Jelly bean – thanks!

Lily Shouk – thanks for the deliciously long review. LOL, a kid named MochaGossamar? That's kinda funny. And I'm glad I got you feeling what the characters were. There will be more D/G in the future. I'm very sorry I haven't gotten to read your D/Hr story yet, but don't worry, I will eventually get to it! I've just been a busy little bee . . . 

Chantico/Enigme – whoosh, glad to get such a response from you! Keep going on your fic, I can't wait to read more ;)

DarkIllusion – of course I will :)

Angie – LOL, thanks, I'm honored you think so highly of it. 

BabBlGrl – tried to hurry! I tried!

Katrina Anne Crane – thanks! Happy you liked it.

Thanks to everyone, I really appreciate it! 


	9. The Ball

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns most of the characters.

A/N: Since it took me a dreadfully long time to get this chapter out, I made it extra long – forty pages to be exact, excluding thank yous. I happen _not_ to like this chapter, because it seems to stretch on for a while and get rather boring. But anyway, try to enjoy it just the same. 

**Chapter Nine**

**_The Ball_**

Even though Draco never visited her once after their kiss, even though she continually had nightmares about the murdering of children, and even though she took Tom's pink potion for a third time, Ginny became well again.

    It seemed to take months and months of lying in bed, sweating, barely feeling the pain of her body, only feeling the acute fear of her nightmares. But it finally happened - she finally was healed.

    The nightmares certainly didn't help the process. Each one she had was identical to the last - frighteningly real and horrifyingly graphic. Each time it was a different family . . . a different child. Yet it always included Tom doing the murdering, and his dumpy sidekick holding the next victim, sometimes laughing hoarsely for no reason at all. 

    The nightmares happened each night after the first "vision" occurred; only now they did so in her sleep. It came to be that she was terrified to shut her eyes, lest she sleep, but in the end, the sickness pulled her into a deep slumber, and she dreamed. 

    The first couple of times, she woke up screaming, and Maria was at her side in an instant. She would beg Ginny to tell her what was wrong, what had happened in her nightmare, though Ginny wouldn't be able to speak. She'd tremble violently, shake her head, swallow, and wrap the covers around her tighter, as if it would help any. Maria would take a hint and stop asking, taking hold of her sweaty hand until she fell asleep once more.

    After those first few dreams, though, Ginny managed to wake up without much noise. The sheets and nightgown would be twisted around her body, damp from perspiration, and her hair would cling to her forehead and cheeks, but she'd only let out a small whimper, relieved that it was over. Then she'd lay awake, staring at the canopy, trying to keep her mind blank, until the first rays of sun seeped through the curtains into her room.

    Combining the lack of sleep, the reduced appetite, and the aching loneliness deep within her, it was amazing that Ginny regained her health. The night of the thirteenth she had taken Tom's potion for the final time, fallen asleep, had a horrific nightmare, woken up, fallen back to sleep for the remaining three hours till dawn, and woken up the morning of the fourteenth feeling weak, tired, and feverless. 

    Ginny sat up and threw the covers off her. She'd been sweating a lot the night before; she'd had the fever then, she was certain. It was as if it had cleared up overnight. And if she hadn't been so happy to be well again she would've been suspicious.

    Her eyelids felt heavy, and she wanted nothing more than to drop back onto the pillow and sleep. But she dreaded the nightmares that accompanied sleep, and forced herself up and out of bed.

    As if signaled, the door opened and Maria walked in at that exact moment. Ginny studied her face - she looked exhausted, the corners of her mouth drooping, her eyes faded. Though when she saw her out of bed, standing on her two feet without swaying, her expression brightened instantly.

    "Oh, Highness, are you feeling better?" she exclaimed, waddling over and wrapping her arms around Ginny. 

    Ginny somehow found it in her to smile. "Yes, I am," she replied, half-bent to be able to hug Maria back.

    Maria pulled away, still looking incredibly happy, and pressed a hand to Ginny's forehead. "Your fever is gone," she announced joyfully. "You feel normal now. How is your throat? Any better?"

    "A lot," said Ginny, bringing a hand up to her neck and rubbing it. "I reckon I'm back to good health." _Except for the fact that I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in days_, she added in her mind. 

    Maria continued to look up at her, her smile slowly fading. Her face melted into concern. "You haven't been sleeping well, have you, dear?" she asked quietly as if reading her mind.

    Ginny squinted in confusion. "What?" she said rather stupidly, unprepared for such a question.

    Maria clicked her tongue and sighed. "At first I thought it might be your sickness giving you that haunted look, but that surely cannot be what is putting fear into your eyes," she said. "Look at yourself in the mirror. Go on."

    Ginny crossed reluctantly to the full-length mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, revealing her thin and pale skin, her dull, dark eyes, the purplish half circles underneath them, and her frowning mouth. Maria was right - she did look haunted. And frightened.

_    Of course I'm frightened_, she thought bitterly. _If she saw what I've been seeing for the past few nights then she'd be terrified out of her wits as well._

    "Come, dear, you need a bath,"" Maria said gently, appearing at Ginny's elbow and taking her arm. "Maybe that will help."

    Oh, a bath! Ginny hadn't been properly cleaned since she arrived to the godforsaken place. She'd only been sponged down during her illness, too sick to leave the bed. Gratefully, she tore her gaze from the mirror and followed Maria out of the room.

    The tub was rather elaborate, especially when she'd been expecting a mere wooden barrel. But, she had to remind herself, she was royalty, and royalty deserved better than the average seventeenth century bathing utility. Right then, at least briefly, she really didn't mind so much being a princess.

    At first, Ginny blushed furiously as she undressed completely in front of Maria, but Maria didn't seem to notice. Once she lowered herself into the warm water, though, Ginny immediately quit being embarrassed and let out a contented sigh. It was the best thing she'd felt since she'd arrived.

_    Except for_, a little voice in her head added, _Draco's kiss._

    She didn't get to think very much more on that subject, because a moment later Maria dumped another bucket of hot water over her head. She started, not expecting it, and had been breathing in at that second and got water sucked up her nose.

    "Thank you," she said a little snappishly and sarcastically, wiping the hair from her eyes. 

    Maria gave her a little smile, looking as though she didn't know what she'd done wrong, and kneeled down beside the bathtub with a bar of lumpy, though fresh smelling, soap in her hand. She dunked it in the water to moisten it, then started to wash Ginny's back.

    "I'm not crippled, you know," Ginny said, slightly jokingly, sliding forward to avoid the soap. "I can wash myself. You don't have to do it."

    Maria gave her a slightly surprised look and shrugged. "All right, Highness, whatever you wish. You have never seemed eager to wash yourself before. Probably –" But she cut off suddenly, a stricken look coming to her face, before smiling brightly. _Probably because I'm a lazy brat, right?_ Ginny finished for her, looking up at her with a knowing smirk as Maria stood and handed the soap over. 

    Maria sat in a chair nearby, sewing what looked like the hem of a dress, while Ginny washed. When she asked her what she was supposed to wash her hair with, the older woman gave her a disbelieving expression and scoffed, like Ginny was being insolent, "What is in your hand, Highness?"

    Ginny glanced at the soap in her hand with a frown, figuring that logically, there was no shampoo. Sighing, she began scrubbing the bar in her hair, just dreading the tangles that would form.

    The bath gave her ten minutes of a wonderful, merciful break from the horrors her brain kept creating. She managed to think of nothing but cleansing herself, and was somewhat reluctant to get out. Only because the water was starting to cool, and because once she was finished with the soap she had nothing else to do except sit there and remember her dreams, did she finally stand up and ask for something to dry off with. 

    Twenty minutes later, Ginny was once again laced up tightly and shoved into a dress that was probably two sizes too small in the bodice. Even though she'd been sick of wearing plain white nightgowns for the past few days, they seemed mighty comfortable to her now. She liked breathing very much.

    The bath had helped her complexion some, but the bags under her eyes were still a dark shade of purplish-blue, and no matter how brightly she attempted to smile, her eyes just would not light up.

    It was then time for breakfast. Ginny's stomach actually grumbled at the thought. _Finally, real, solid food_, she thought. Plus, as weird as it might've sounded even to herself, she was eager to see Draco.

    Deep inside her, she thought that perhaps the kiss they'd shared might've changed things between them. Now that she was well, everything that had worried her before didn't seem half as bad. She would get out of here eventually - she couldn't stay forever. The dreams would definitely disappear when she returned Hogwarts - _they_ couldn't last forever. And Draco's kiss _really_ hadn't been so terrible. It had just happened at a bad time.

    But when she entered the dinning room, she only saw her parents there. Before stepping in any further, she glanced over her shoulder at Maria and whispered, "Where's Draco?"

    "He's gone home, Highness," Maria replied like Ginny should've known. "He shall be coming back in a few days, for the wedding arrangements."

_    Home?_ Ginny suddenly felt as if her stomach had no bottom. She now felt very, very alone, and numbly sat down at her usual spot. Vaguely, she heard her mother going on and on about how great it was that she was healthy again, that she was terrified that she was going to die, but she wasn't really listening.

    Ginny wasn't completely sure why she felt so crushed. Draco had _had_ to leave. And he probably didn't even want to stay. After all, she was sick the entire time - it wasn't as if she was keeping him company. Not to mention that he most likely didn't _enjoy_ her company. Still, her stomach was churning unpleasantly and she couldn't eat much, even though it was the first solid meal she could eat. 

    When she was through with breakfast, she excused herself and left the room. _Well_, she thought with a sigh as she walked slowly down the corridor, _now I have a few days to kill. So what am I going to do?_

    First, she'd make sure that Tom was dismissed. She didn't want him in the castle any longer. Maybe, if she were lucky, he'd leave the city - or better yet, the country - altogether. Then the murdering would stop.

_    But if they don't_, she mused, _then I'll have to put an end to it myself. I'll have to find a way for someone to catch Tom killing someone._

    A total of six families had been stabbed to death during her sickness. And she'd dreamt about each and every one, even those that occurred before she fell ill and started having the nightmares. Sometimes, she'd see the same family murdered again, two nights in a row. Either way, the dreams weren't exactly prophetic. She'd dream about the deaths _after_ they had happened. So she couldn't use her visions as for an advantage to tell her which family would be next. 

    Still, maybe one day she'd follow Tom into his frequent trips to the village to check up on various "patients". She could hide and wait until he started slaughtering, then run for help, and bring witnesses to see what was going on.

    Feeling slightly better now that that problem was figured out, at least for the time being, she had to move on to other things that were bothering her. Like how to get back to her own time.

_    That woman Maria mentioned_, she remembered. _Alexandria. I can visit her . . . maybe she'll know what's going on._

    It wasn't a good plan, but it was the only thing that she could come up with. Before she could think any deeper on the subject, she heard footsteps behind her. Stopping, she turned around. For a minute, her breath caught in her throat and she froze, believing it was Tom. But as he drew closer, she realized with a breath of relief that it wasn't - it was Harry. _Tom's not the only person with black hair, Ginny_, she told herself, feeling cross because she had actually confused him with Harry. 

    "Highness," said Harry, seeing that she was now facing him. He continued down the hall until he stood before her, meeting her eyes. In his hand he clasped something. "Prince Draco ordered me to give this to you." He held out his hand, revealing a piece of folded parchment.

    Ginny gave him a confused look, though she was more puzzled over the fact that Draco had actually left her what seemed to be a note. She took it from Harry and quickly unfolded it. Written in black ink and neat, though rather large, handwriting was a short message: _I'm going to visit Dumbledore. If I find out anything, I'll send word._ Turning it over, she recognized that that was all. No signature or anything. 

    "Draco gave you this?" she asked Harry, slightly doubtful. Out of all the servants in the castle, Draco would actually have Harry deliver it? 

    He nodded once in reply.

    "Well . . . thank you," she finally said, refolding the parchment. Harry nodded again, then turned to leave. Ginny watched his retreating back, wanting nothing more than for him to stay. If she was stuck here by herself, without Draco, than she would at least like him to stick around . . . it would give her somebody to talk to. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Wait, Harry."

    He obeyed and did so, asking without turning, "Yes, Highness?" This time she couldn't read the emotion in his voice.

    She thought quickly, unsure of what to say that wouldn't make him leave. "Um . . . do you know where Alexandria lives?"

    At this, Harry turned, eyebrows squeezed together in a perplexed expression. "Alexandria?" he repeated slowly. "I am not sure I know who that is."

    She felt her cheeks redden, and she didn't know why. _It's a reflex_, she figured. _Whenever I'm around someone who looks, though may not act, like Harry Potter, I blush for no reason._ "Maria told me about her," she explained. "She said she's . . . magic."

    She expected to get a reaction from Harry, but he merely nodded. "I think I know who you are talking about."

    "Then . . . d'you mind taking me to her?"

    He stared at her for a moment before replying, clearly conflicting the idea in his mind. Then he opened his mouth and said, "Terribly sorry, Highness, but I am far too busy today. I will ask someone else –"

    "Tomorrow, then?" she interrupted mildly, not ready to give up. "I'll make sure that all your chores are excused."

    His expression turned hard; his eyes narrowed and turned an icy shade of green. _He's probably afraid I'm going to hurt him_, she thought suddenly. Before she could say anything, he replied curtly, "As you wish, Highness."

* * *

In Wales, there was no snow. It wasn't cold enough.

    Instead, there was rain. 

    Draco bounced in the back of the carriage, sitting facing Timothy, his scrawny-straw haired servant. Before they'd gotten in, and Draco had suggested that he ride in the carriage with him, the younger boy's face lit up so much and he looked so surprised Draco was afraid that he'd wet himself. Instead, he just nodded numbly and vigorously and got in first. 

    Now, they were both silent. The rain pounding on the roof and the clomping of the horses was enough to drown out any conversation, and since there were two other armed carriage escorts carrying about a dozen knights to protect Draco, moving in front and behind them, he really didn't have a desire to talk much. 

    There were coverings over the windows, to keep the rain from coming in - _haven't they ever heard of glass windows? _Draco wondered - so he couldn't gaze out. His eyes traveled everywhere inside the stagecoach until finally, sighing, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. 

    It was no use trying to sleep, though. The past couple of days he'd slept well, maybe a little _too_ well. He was sure if Elle hadn't woken him up each morning, since she was the only one in the castle who had the guts to do so without fearing for their lives, then he might've slept all day. He just didn't really want to get up. Partially because he was just lazy, and partially because he didn't want his father to see him awake and dressed, and force him to go to the site where his and Ginny's future home was being built. 

    "Make sure everything goes as planned," King Edward would say gruffly, distractedly, as if he had better things to be doing then instructing his son. Then he'd leave, and Draco would be stuck there all day. It might've not been so bad, of course, except for the fact that it rained every single time. And it wasn't a gentle, spring rain either - it was hard sheets of icy water. Though Draco got his own little tent to sit in, it wasn't waterproof - drops were continually leaking in and plopping onto his head and rolling down his neck. 

    He wouldn't have been surprised if he got sick, too. 

    So finally, Draco had managed to talk his father out of watching the construction of the new castle. After all, he really didn't see the point of it. Did they build an entirely new castle every time a member of the royal family got married? When he asked Edward this, the king only answered, "We have been needing a new one for some time. Isabella and I will continue living in this one, and once I die she will move in with you, and then it shall be torn down."

    That ended that conversation.

    Over the past few days, Draco had sort of gotten to know the man who was his father a little bit better. Even though he was constantly irritated and snapped a lot, and even though he never paid any attention to Elle unless asking her if she completed her lessons for the day, Draco found that he liked him a lot more than his _real_ father. This world's father was a lot less violent.

    And this world's father wasn't always exploding at little things, and didn't somehow manage to tie the cause to each and every misfortune to the death and absence of Voldemort. 

    In a way, this life was nice. He had complete control over everybody. It was one thing to boss house-elves around, but another to boss _real_ people around. In his regular time, there really wasn't any person who would actually obey his orders. Here, though, they set right to the task he asked them to do. And despite how complicated and annoying the clothes that he had to wear were, he did have to admit that he looked excellent in them. Almost every outfit he had had been specifically designed for him, and fortunately, all the colors matched his tone. If there was one thing Draco hated - other than tea - it was colors that made him look washed out. 

    But now, sitting in the carriage, the ride far from smooth and very uncomfortable, Draco's mind was not on clothes. He was slowly sinking into a bad mood. And, as seemed to be reflexive for him lately, when he was in a bad mood his thoughts went to the topic of Ginny Weasely.

    He hadn't heard anything about her since he left. One time, he'd swallowed his pride and managed to ask his father what he knew of her health, but Edward had only shrugged, looking irritated, and continued talking about whatever he had been before. 

    She could be dead, for all he knew. He sincerely hoped that wasn't the case, because he didn't want to be murdered by her brothers the minute he finally got back to his own time. 

    "How much longer until we get there?" Draco asked Timothy, trying to drag his mind away from depressing things.

    "A f-few more minutes, Highness," Timothy answered, giving a very faint smile. _Wow, it's an improvement_, Draco thought, smirking. _He only stuttered once._

    It seemed to take a lot longer than that. Draco sighed, and turned to stare pointlessly at the coverings on the window. He was very tired of waiting. It seemed that's all he'd been doing the moment he woke up in this world. 

    Finally, Draco heard the carriage driver whistle at the horses, and they slowed to a stop. A second later the door was opened for him, and he was afraid he'd have to step out into the rain unprotected - being cold was one thing, but being cold and wet was another that he couldn't tolerate without complaining. To his gratitude, though, when he glanced out of the carriage he saw that the driver had pulled up directly to an awning. It was wide but short, and ran up to a rather small house, ending at the top of the doorway. 

    Slowly, Draco got out of the carriage. Glancing around, he could see that this house was clearly in the middle of the forest. Despite the protection of the trees, rainwater got through and pounded heavily on the awning. 

    Draco's feet sunk in the soft earth as he approached the door. Since he was finally, _finally_, there he was a bit anxious. What would Dumbledore be like? Would he be the crazy old nut that Draco had known all his days at Hogwarts? Or would he be totally different? 

    "I'll w-wait out h-here, Hi-Highness," Timothy called to him from the carriage. 

    Draco nodded slightly, though he was sure that Timothy didn't see it. Glancing beside the door, he saw a large wooden sign. Written on it with blue paint read: _Albus Dumbledore, Specializing in the Gift of Magic._ Becoming more confident, Draco sucked in a breath, and then knocked on the door with his knuckles.

    It took only a second before the door was opened, and Draco found himself staring in the familiar face of Albus Dumbledore. He looked identical to what he had at Hogwarts - same twinkling blue eyes, same kind and wrinkled face, same long white hair, same half-moon spectacles. His clothes were the only things that looked different; not exactly odd, for they were old-fashioned, and old-fashioned clothing seemed like what Dumbledore would wear just because he felt like it. It was just different.

    Dumbledore swept his gaze over Draco for a moment, before bending himself at the waist into a sweeping bow. "Your Highness," he said somberly, before straightening again with a faint trace of a smile on his face.

    "Hello," Draco said awkwardly, unsure of what to address him as. He couldn't call him Professor or Headmaster, and calling him just plain Dumbledore seemed too formal. Instead he moved along without saying his name. "I would like to speak to you, if you've a spare moment."

    Dumbledore stared at him for what seemed the longest time. His expression turned serious and he squinted his eyes, as if trying to study something on his face. Draco stood uncomfortably, uncertain of what he was doing, but not wanting to move. Just as he was about to open his mouth and say irritably, "It's really not polite to gape" Dumbledore spoke suddenly.

    "I know what you are here for," he announced, a bit dramatically.

    "You do?" Draco drawled doubtfully. He raised an eyebrow, skeptical. _He might just be pretending he does_, he told himself. _After all, someone who lives in a Muggle world and does magic openly are normally complete and total fakes. _

    "Yes," Dumbledore replied, softer this time. "But I cannot tell you."

    "What?" Now Draco was getting confused. "Can't tell me what?"

    "Not without the girl," Dumbledore continued, acting like he hadn't heard him. "I'm sorry, do come back another day." And with that he started to shut the door.

    "No, wait a minute," Draco scoffed, placing his hand on the door to keep it from closing. He took one step in the slight opening as Dumbledore peered out at him, squinting as though he couldn't see him. "What girl are you talking about? Are you talking about Ginny?"

    "The girl you came with," he said calmly. He once again tried to shut the door, but Draco was in the way now, with one hand preventing it from moving. 

    "You mean Ginny, don't you?" Draco insisted. _He is not closing this door without at least telling me _something, he thought. ""Princess Ginny? Did you bring us here?"

    "Highness, come back with the girl," Dumbledore repeated firmly, sounding as though he were trying to be patient.

    "No –" Draco started struggling with him and the door, fighting to keep it open, when suddenly he heard someone calling his name. Startled, he glanced back towards the carriage, which was still at the end of the awning, but on the road, surrounded by the escort carriages. A little ways down the road, someone on horseback was galloping towards it, which Draco recognized a moment later to be his father.

    While Draco had been looking away, Dumbledore had used the distraction to give him a push and slamming the door shut. Cursing, Draco turned back to it and attempted to push it open again, only to find it was locked. He cursed again, and slowly looked back at Edward, who was sopping wet and riding a black horse. 

    The king came right up under the awning, to Draco's side, on his horse, apparently not curious to the fact as to why Draco was at an old wizard's home. Instead, he glanced down at him, icy water dripping off his wet hair and dropping onto his son's shoulders, his horse stomping one hoof at the ground tossing its head. Then he said, "Come home now, Draco. I have just received news that Princess Ginny is well again, and that they are holding a ball in her honor."

    Still annoyed that Edward had made him miss what might be the only chance to talk to Dumbledore, at least the last chance for another couple of days, Draco repeated vaguely and shortly, "A ball?"

    "Yes, it's tomorrow. We must leave immediately if we hope to make it there by nightfall tonight."

    Edward tugged on the reins, turning the horse around, when his news sunk into Draco's mind. He jogged around the horse and stood in front of it, looking up at his father's face. "Wait. Ginny's not sick anymore?"

    "That is just what I have said, is it not, Draco?" Edward demanded, frowning. "Yes, she is well now. So head back to the castle now, for we will be departing shortly." With that, he dug his heels into the horse's flanks and it went into a gallop, running back down the dirt road in the way they'd arrived. He was not surrounded by escorts, Draco noticed, but he knew the reason. King Edward didn't like being escorted by knights everywhere he went, so occasionally, he put on grimy clothes of a peasant and rode by himself.

    Which was probably why he was riding in the freezing rain. Draco thought he was insane to be doing such a stupid thing, when he could be dry and warm_er_ in a carriage.

    Draco's mood now raised a bit, he turned and strode back into his own carriage. Timothy, who was still sitting where he'd been before, directly across from him, managed a small and shaky smile, though a minute later he seemed to be very interested in a thread on his tunic. 

    Draco sighed and shook his head. He was surprised at the feeling of actually looking forward to returning to the castle in England. In a way he wanted to see Ginny again, though he had no excuses at to why except simply for the fact that he wanted to see her, and a ball might actually be _interesting._

    Except, of course, for the fact that he had absolutely no idea how they danced during these times.

    That definitely put a damper on his interest.

* * *

"A what?" Ginny asked, looking at her mother in disbelief.

    It was early afternoon, the day after Ginny had read Draco's note. She'd been dying to go see Alexandria, but Harry couldn't get out of his duties, no matter how hard Ginny had tried to persuade the Head of the Servants, who was a very strict, boring man named Richard. She was going to have to wait until later that day, she knew, before she even had a hope of getting Harry to show her where Alexandria lived.

    Of course, she knew all she had to do was ask Maria where Alexandria lived, and she could go without him. But to be honest, she wanted Harry to come with her. She wanted to have a chance to set things straight - to make friends with him, and for him to stop hating her. And that would never happen unless she got some time alone with him.

    Despite this little obstacle, Ginny was having a very good day so far. She hadn't had a dream the night before, and had spent most of the morning lounging in the library reading some story that had a Latin title, but was written in English. Also, she'd been pleased when she'd actually heard her mother's first name by one of the servants, who, not knowing that Ginny was there, snapped something about "that horrid Queen Lavinia." It'd pleased her, because even though she knew she would never need to call her parents by their first names, it was still good to know. 

    "A ball," the queen repeated now, shooting Ginny an annoyed glance. Ginny was in her bedchamber, which was twice the size of her own, while the maid was lacing Lavinia into a corset. "For your health. And for our thanks to Thomas. It was because of him that you are well again. He practically cured you overnight, according to Maria."

    Ginny tried not to scowl at Tom's name. She was sitting in a large, dark green, and elaborately expensive armchair, and dug her nails into the plush armrests. "When is the ball going to be?"

    Queen Lavinia winced slightly as the maid jerked on the strings to tighten the corset, then managed a smooth reply. "Tomorrow evening."

    Ginny pressed her lips together, studying the queen. She had obviously been attractive in her youth, though she was still a very comely lady. Her hair was dark, though, and her skin was olive-colored; Ginny certainly did not take after her. Yet despite how she looked, Ginny saw her in no other light than a murdering, angry, jealous bitch. "Will Thomas be there?" she asked, keeping a cool voice, even though she already knew the answer. 

    "Of course," Lavinia snapped, reaching out to grip the bedpost for support as the maid once again yanked hard on the strings. "He is the guest of honor, you silly girl."

    Ginny let a nearly silent sigh escape her lips. _I'll just have to avoid him_, she thought, when another question popped into her mind. "Is Draco coming?"

    "Your father sent word to King Edward early this morning," Lavinia replied. "The family should be arriving tonight."

    That made Ginny feel somewhat more secure. At least she wouldn't be the only person there who had absolutely no clue what to do. _I don't even know how to dance_, she thought, frowning. _At least not the way they dance now._

    Lavinia went on chatting about all the important guests who were coming, who were able to come on such short notice, but Ginny tuned her out. The more she dwelled on the fact that she couldn't dance, the more nervous she felt. Was she supposed to know how to dance? _Obviously,_ she told herself. _Lavinia would've complained that I can't dance by now if she thought I didn't know how. _

    This was going to be a problem, most definitely. She was pretty confident that Draco didn't know how to dance either, but the ball wasn't being held for his benefit. People would _expect_ her to dance. _If I don't, then this woman who's supposed to be my mother might get so angry she'll have the guards shoot me with arrows, too._ It was a lame, sick joke, but she still had to smile slightly, however sadly.

    "All right, Virginia, since you clearly are not listening to a word I am saying, then you may leave," Lavinia said sharply, standing still as the maid began to put a horribly pink gown on her. "You have the attention span of a five year old child, and that is not a quality people look for in ladies, especially royalty."

    Ginny stood up and nodded without a word, glad to be escaping. _I'm not royalty_, she retorted in her head, as she walked quickly from the large room. _This life isn't mine; it isn't me._

    She headed slowly back to her room, wondering if Maria might be there. She desperately needed someone to talk to, and the only person that made sense was Maria. _She's known me my whole life_, Ginny thought, _or at least, she thinks she does. Maybe she won't mind teaching me how to dance, even if I already should know how._

    When she reached her room, she saw that Maria was there, but someone else was, too. A tall, bald, skinny man wearing a ruffled collar that reached his ears was lounging in a chair placed at the table in the middle of the room, smoking a pipe and reading a book. Ginny, shocked for a moment, stood in the doorway and stared at him. He had not seen her, but continued puffing on his pipe and squinting at the page, having trouble reading correctly. Maria was half submerged in the wardrobe, shifting through Ginny's many dresses and humming quite loudly to herself.

    "Just _what_ do you think you are doing," Ginny demanded, not making it a question. It annoyed her greatly that this man found it all right to smoke in her own private bedroom. Especially when she was a princess, and could have him banned from the city if she wanted. It occurred to her that he might be a powerful man, and maybe that's why he looked like he thought he belonged there, but either way, he had no right to smoke. Already the room reeked of the smell of it.

    Calmly, the man looked up from his book, holding his pipe at his mouth. Maria came out from the wardrobe and gave her a great welcoming smile. "Highness, Marquis is here to fit you."

    Ginny narrowed her eyes at the man named Marquis, and asked in a dull but firm tone, "He's come to _what_?" After having been "inspected" by Tom Riddle she was very wary of what "fitting" someone meant. 

    "For your ball gown," Maria explained hurriedly, noticing the lethal look on Ginny's face. "Your parents had him summoned here to get you dressed properly for the ball tomorrow night."

    "I left 'ze Queen of France to design a dress for you, 'Ighness," Marquis declared in a thick French accent, blowing out smoke from his mouth. Ginny watched as it made a cloud around his head. "So do not make me wait. Come along, stand right over 'zaire." He pointed with the pointy end of his pipe at where he wanted her to stand.

    Ginny continue to stare at him a moment longer before slowly making her way over to where he'd directed. "Put that pipe out, please," she said, sounding icy even to her own ears. "I'm about to choke to death in here."

    "As you wish, 'Ighness," he replied, though his eyes blazed for a moment. He quickly smothered the pipe smoke and strolled over to her. "Let me see," he murmured, looking her up and down. "Seem to 'ave grown since I last saw you, eh? Maria, please 'and me zat dark blue dress on ze bottom of zat pile over 'zaire." He pointed to a chair in the corner, which was, Ginny hadn't noticed before, draped over with a pile of many dresses. Maria hurried over with the dress he requested and handed it to Marquis. "Zese are ze latest fashions from Paris, 'Ighness," he commented, holding the dress up to Ginny's shoulders. "I just need to see what suits you and make ze proper adjustments . . ." He trailed off, suddenly deep in thought. After a moment, he clicked his tongue and gave the dress back to Maria. "No, no, no, not right for your complexion. Let me see . . ."

    Once he found a color that he liked, he asked Maria to remove the dress Ginny was already wearing. She didn't mind so much, for she was wearing about ten other layers of under things, and stood there, waiting while Marquis mused over another gown. Then she was asked to put it on.

    It took nearly twenty minutes to get through the entire pile of dresses, and she had to try on each and every one. By then, Marquis had only decided that she wouldn't wear pink - _which is a dead giveaway, considering I have bright red hair_, Ginny thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes - or any sort of light pastel color. "None of zese styles or colors really flatter you," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "I am still waiting for one zat just _jumps_ out at me . . ."

    None in the pile "jumped" at him, so he commanded Maria to leave and have the other dresses he brought with him delivered to the room. Ginny stood there, feeling very, very irritated. Not only was she tired of standing and tired of being squeezed into a million types of gowns, but the room reeked of pipe smoke, and Marquis seemed very much like he enjoyed breathing on her with his disgusting breath. She began praying for a distraction, anything that would get her away from this awful fitting.

    Nearly a half hour after more dresses were brought up, Marquis stood back and admired one particular dress. "Aha!" he declared with a triumphant smile. "Zis is the one! Maria, you agree, no?"

    Maria, who'd been sitting nearby and sewing something, looked up. Her face brightened and she nodded. "Yes, Marquis, you have done it again. That one is perfect!"

    Ginny forced herself not to grumble. It didn't _feel_ perfect. It was just as uncomfortable as every other dress she'd ever worn - maybe even more so, because it was fancier and she was terribly afraid if she moved suddenly she'd rip it. Of course, it was the prettiest dress she'd seen so far. The bodice was white, with a purplish-royal bluish forepart, with sleeves of the same purply color. The skirt was incredibly long, the hem lying on the ground instead of merely brushing it, made of white satin with the same sort of purplish forepart. And after Marquis left her side for a moment, reaching onto the pile, he returned with a purple cape that he fastened around her shoulders. 

    "Wonderful," Marquis whispered delightfully, clasping his hands together.

* * *

Later that evening, Draco and his family still hadn't arrived. Ginny sat on her bed, no longer wearing the uncomfortable dress. She was worried about it because she thought the skirt was way too long for her, and she was terrified she might trip while _attempting_ to dance. Marquis left the moment he packed up his dresses, and she didn't get the chance to ask him about shortening the hem. _How can I possibly try to dance_, she thought_, when I don't even have a dress that fits me properly?_

    Oh, she was definitely not looking forward to this ball.

    Now, she watched as Maria busied herself cleaning the large mirror, humming once again and standing on her tiptoes to reach the top of it. Ginny stared a few moments, feeling unsure of what she was going to do, when Maria asked, "What are you staring at, child?"

    "Sorry," Ginny apologized. 

    "You don't have to be sorry," she replied. "I was just curious as to why you are looking at me like that. Is something troubling you?"

    Ginny should've realized that she could see her reflection in the mirror, and could see her expression as clear as day. She gave a sigh, her shoulders rising and falling, and blurted out quickly, "I don't know how to dance."

    Maria seemed to freeze in place for an instant, but that could've been Ginny's imagination. Slowly, the short maid turned to meet her eyes. "Don't know how? Highness, you have been dancing since you were old enough to walk."

    Ginny wrinkled her nose. _Oh, great, this is going to be even harder to explain_, she thought dully. How could she say that even though she's been dancing her whole life, she suddenly forgot how? "I just . . . need a few last minute lessons, is all," she ended up mumbling.

    Maria smiled in confusion. "Well, Highness, stand up and come over here," she said, setting her rag down on the table. When Ginny was hesitant at first, she motioned with her hand. "Come on, come on, I have got other things to complete yet."

    Ginny crossed over to her, feeling very awkward. 

    "What sort of dancing don't you know how to do?" She spoke with raised eyebrows and a hint of amusement in her tone. _She reckons it's funny,_ Ginny realized, her frown deepening. 

    "I can slow dance," Ginny said quietly. But then, slow dancing had to be different in this time as well, to accommodate the large skirts the girl's had to wear. "Kind of," she added. "Show me the position again?"

    Maria gave her a very odd look. "If you wish, Highness," she said with a sigh, and lifted her hands. Ginny realized that this was _not_ the slow dancing she knew. Slow dancing did not require two hands in one's partner's two hands. Most of the time, she put her hands on a guy's shoulders.

    Straightening, and trying to swallow her embarrassment, Ginny slid her hands into Maria's. Maria pulled away and shook her head. "What?" Ginny asked timidly.

    "Like _this_, Highness," she ordered, placing her right hand on Ginny's waist. Then, with her free hand, she guided Ginny's left hand onto her upper arm, and grabbed the other one. Nodding, now satisfied, Maria began to move her feet, and Ginny moved with her. After a moment, she dropped her arms and stood back. "You need to relax," she commanded. "You're far too stiff. But other than that, you did just fine."

    Only a little relieved, Ginny said, "What other sort of dances are there going to be?"

    "The usual sort," Maria replied, a little absently, picking up the rag and continuing with the mirror. "Pavan, branles, Fabritio Caroso . . ."

    Ginny shivered, her stomach fluttering with nervousness. _I've never heard of _any_ of those_, she mused with dread. _I won't know anything, not a single step _. . . "I've forgotten how to do them, exactly," she said, kind of loudly. "Can you show me them again?"

    Maria laughed her trilling laughter without even turning around. "Goodness, Highness, even if you do not know how to dance then there is no way you can learn all the steps by tomorrow's ball. I am fairly confident you are not even being serious."

    Ginny's shoulders sagged. "Well, I'm willing to try," she said after a moment. "I really have forgotten, you know." She was beginning to feel very panicky about the ball now, and she started not caring if Maria thought she was being odd or not. When Maria only laughed again, she added, "Just practice with me for a bit, will you? Then you'll see that I can't remember a thing."

    "Of course, if that is what you would like to do, Highness," Maria finally replied, setting the rag down again and turning. "After lying in bed for quite a few days, I can understand that you would like to practice."

    "It's also because I don't know _how_ to dance in the first place." At this point it really didn't seem to matter what she said, for Maria would not believe her. She could've blurted out that she was from four hundred years in the future, and the maid probably would've merely laughed and told her to stop joking. _But then_, Ginny contemplated, _who would believe me? I'm not so sure I'd believe anyone if they suddenly told me they were from the future, especially if it was someone I thought I knew my whole life._

    "Shall we start with the Branle?" Maria asked brightly, smiling confidently up at her as she held up only one hand.

    "Er - sure," she replied. _What the hell is that?_ she wondered, awkwardly reaching out her arms. She'd been hoping for a dance she'd actually heard of. But then, she should've known that it wouldn't be that simple.

    Maria blinked a couple of times. "You only need one hand, Highness," she said, clearly confused. "Do not stand in front of me . . . come _beside_ me. You know the way to stand."

_    No I don't_, Ginny wanted to say, but bit her tongue for it would do her no good. She obeyed without a word, praying that it wouldn't be too hard to learn how to do this.

    "Ready?" Maria asked, glancing at her and giving her another bright smile. "Let us begin . . ." She took a step sideways to the left, and Ginny followed her clumsily, only to receive a sigh of slight amazement and a tight-lipped look from Maria. "No, no, Highness. Before you even start you keep your feet _together_. Then after you take one step, you've got to bring them back together. Remember?"

    Cheeks burning, Ginny mumbled, "Yes, I remember now."

    Maria's smile returned and she nodded. "Let us start once more." Once more she took another sideways left step, and Ginny mimicked her, sure to bring her feet together. Maria took another step in the same direction, and Ginny followed her again. Then, without warning, she took a sideways step to the right, bumping into Ginny, who hadn't been expecting it. "Highness, now we go right." She sounded impatient. "What are you trying to prove? I know that you could not have forgotten how to dance. We just had a ball a month ago. It is impossible to forget how in such a short time."

    "I'm telling you, I honestly forgot," Ginny replied, feeling stupid. She suddenly was struck with an excuse, and hurried to add, "I think it must've been that sickness. It must've made me not remember how to dance."

    All at once Maria looked concerned, drooping her hand and coming before her to face her. "Truly? Are you having trouble with your memory? Have you forgotten anything else?"

    Ginny felt her spirits lift - Maria just might believe that she had forgotten and teach her to dance all over again. Then she wouldn't look like such a fool at the ball. "I can remember everything else just fine," she replied, trying not to smile. "But for some very odd reason I can't remember dancing."

    "Oh dear." Now Maria looked worried. "So you have forgotten every dance that you have learned?"

    "Pretty much," Ginny answered, pressing her lips together.

    "Oh dear," Maria repeated, taking a step backwards. ""This certainly won't do, now will it? We can't have you, the princess, the one all the young men will want to dance with, not know how. Perhaps I should suggest to the queen that she should perhaps cancel it."

_    Yes_, Ginny agreed instantly. _No ball whatsoever is a lot better than having to learn to dance. _Yet no matter how much _she_ was with the idea, she knew Lavinia would never call the ball off. She seemed the sort who loved balls, being around important people (even if she was married to the most important man in the entire country) and enjoyed being dolled up. She'd probably force Ginny to come anyway, and tough it out. And when it was all over, she'd blame Ginny for making her look like such a fool. 

    And Ginny couldn't lie and say she wasn't feeling well, and have that the reason she wasn't here. Wasn't the whole point of this ball because she was healthy again?

    Sighing, thinking that she was making a horrible mistake, she said, "No, there's no need to cancel it. The que - Mother won't allow it, I'm sure. I'll just have to learn. I've still got twenty-four hours, haven't I?"

    Maria shook her head. "Yes, but it's not going to be easy." She sighed, rubbed her face, and straightened to raise herself to her full height. Then she squinted suspiciously at Ginny and asked, "Are you absolutely positive you have forgotten, Highness?"

    "I swear," she replied quickly, holding one hand up. "I really have forgotten."

    "All right." Maria looked as though she believed her, but also like she was dreading the task that was going to have to do. "I shall find someone who is taller than you - one of the servants, most likely. I will return shortly."

    And she left the room, leaving Ginny alone. She turned and fell onto her back on her bed. _This is wonderful_, she thought. _I'm going to have to learn how to dance dances that I've never even _heard_ of before, have never even _seen_ before, all before tomorrow night. _It wasn't going to be a good evening, or a good day tomorrow.

    Having trouble getting her mind off her nervousness, and the upcoming ball, her thoughts floated to Draco. She imagined he would just sit at the table during the entire ball, eating and scowling at everyone. Since he most likely had no idea how to dance, then he would most likely declined every invitation asked of him. As reluctantly as Ginny was to admit it, she knew that he would be asked to dance many times; not only because he was a prince, but because he would probably be one of the best looking there.

_    I wonder if he's gotten a chance to see Dumbledore yet_, she considered, trying to think of something other than the ball. _He said he'd send word, but knowing him, be probably didn't feel like it. _

    Ginny knew that once she saw Alexandria, and even if she got information from the woman, she would still go and visit Dumbledore on her own. She wanted to see what he was like, and if anyone in this world knew why she and Draco were here, he would. Well, anyone except Tom, who wasn't likely to say a word that he knew that they were all in an alternate universe. 

    The door opened then, and Ginny sat up to see whom Maria had brought for her partner. A frightening thought struck her then - what if it was Tom?

    But to her complete gratitude, it wasn't. It was Harry.

    He didn't look very happy about being there, for he was scowling openly and even went as far as to cross his arms, as though he were bored. Maria seemed not to notice and gestured for Ginny to get up and join them over near the door, in the part of the room that was cleared and didn't have much furniture in the way. When Ginny awkwardly stood beside Harry, she moved to the side, obviously just there to observe and direct.

    "Okay, we'll start with the branle," Maria sighed, preparing herself for what was going to be a long night.

* * *

And it was, a very long night. Ginny grew bored in the first ten minutes. She keep sneaking glances at Harry, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was, anywhere but holding her hand and being her partner while she "relearned" how to dance. As the night wore on, she started not to blame him.

    The branle was one of the simplest dances, but the others got more complicated. Every step got jumbled up in her head, blurring in with other movements, other dances . . . and she kept making mistake upon mistake. Harry wasn't a great dancer, but at least he knew how, and he was clearly becoming annoyed with her. He never spoke once, but he continually sighed and huffed his impatience. 

    Since the Malfoys hadn't arrived by mealtime, Maria suggested that they eat dinner in the room, for they should get started right after they finished eating. Ginny nodded, glad for a break. While Maria left to go bring some food up, she collapsed onto her bed, spread-eagled.

    "I am never going to learn this," she moaned, and then rubbed her face with her hands. When Harry didn't reply, she propped herself up on one elbow, and glanced over at him. He was sitting at the table now, seeming very interested in his fingers. Feeling a rush of guilt for him, because it wasn't like he'd volunteered to help her, much less listen to her whine, she added, "When Draco arrives, you may leave. He can be my partner."

    "Thank you, Highness," he said absently, voice neutral.

    "I'm grateful for you now, though," she said, trying to sound sincere, but not _overly_ sincere. She slid off the bed and stood up, smoothing her large skirt down. Walking over to the table, she continued, "You're probably the only one who's the right height to help me learn how to dance."

    Noticing that she was now standing beside him, he looked up at her, his eyes unreadable. "Very well, Highness," he said. "But there is always Doctor Thomas, who would also be the perfect height."

    Ginny's blood froze in her veins, though she wasn't sure the exact reason. Was it because of the mention of Tom? Yet if it was, and since she'd heard his name a thousand times, than why did it make her react in such an odd way? Or was it perhaps the tone of Harry's voice when he spoke of him? As if he was trying to be subtly dropping hints that Tom should be the one she was dancing with. 

    Her mind traveled back to the dreams she had, and she pictured Tom's sidekick, whose face was always hidden in shadows. _Could it possibly be Harry?_ she wondered, remembering her early suspicions of him being the actual one to murder the families. Now, though, she knew it was Tom, but it was likely that Harry was the sidekick.

_    No it isn't_, she figured after a moment. She could never identify the stranger's voice, could never see his face, but she could see his body type. And Harry was not short and dumpy, like Tom's partner was. Harry was taller, skinnier, and his voice was a couple of octaves lower. There was no way it could be him, Ginny tried to convince herself, and put it out of her mind. 

    "No," Ginny said firmly in response to Harry's comment. She flopped unladylike into a chair beside him, turning it so she could face him. "I do _not_ want Doctor Thomas dancing with me. I don't want him to touch me _ever_ again, and I don't want to even _see_ him ever again. I want him to leave this castle right after the ball."

    Harry caught her gaze, and he was visibly puzzled. "You . . . you do not think highly of Doctor Thomas? Even knowing the fact that if it were not for his healing skills, you would most likely be dead?" he asked, raising one eyebrow before the other followed after it.

    Ginny sighed, and rubbed her eyes. _Might as well tell him_, she thought. _It's not like he's going to prance off and tell everyone what I think of Tom, and even if he _does_, then I don't care. I want everyone to know what I think._ "I think rather lowly of him, actually," she told Harry after a moment. "He's not a good person, Harry. I don't care what anybody says, or claims, and I don't care if he is the best damned doctor in this bloody world. He's evil, and not at all what people think he is. He's just . . . _evil_."

    Harry stared at her, wide-eyed, as if unable to believe what she was telling him. Then, when he realized she was finished, his expression returned to its normal blankness, and he said slowly, "I believe you, Highness."

    Now it was Ginny's turn to be shocked. She blinked, squinted at him in suspicion, and then asked, "You do?"

    "I have not seen him do anything with my own eyes," Harry continued, lowering his tone slightly, "but every time I see him, I get this . . . this . . ." He stopped, as if thinking he was saying to much, and stopped. "Never you mind, Highness, it is not important. I will continue where Maria left off cleaning -"

    As he started to stand, Ginny put a hand on his arm to keep him from moving. This time, he flinched, tensing under her touch, but did not yank his arm away. Instead, he met her eyes. "No, wait," she said quietly. "I would like to hear what you have to say about him. Please."

    Harry stared at her for another moment, the conflict visible on his face, evidently debating whether or not to tell her what he thought. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision, and pulled his arm from her hand, though not as forcibly as she had expected. He sat back down in the chair and stared her straight in the eyes, continuing. "Every time I see him," he repeated quietly, like he was afraid someone might overhear, "I can almost _sense_ the real person he is. I can _sense_ that the smile he flashes about to each and every person, no matter how lowly they are, is fake and put on for show; put on to cover up the person he is trying to hide."

    Ginny was already interested, and found herself leaning forward slightly. "What person do you reckon that is?" she asked.

    Harry shook his head, indecisive. "To be quite honest, Highness, I am not certain. But I know that he is not the warm, wonderful doctor he portrays to be."

    Ginny's heart hadn't felt this high in days. She wasn't the only one who didn't think that Tom was the greatest thing to walk on the earth! At that moment she could've kissed Harry smack on the cheek, but restrained herself, for she knew that would definitely scare him away, or at least keep him from saying anything more.

    "I agree with you," Ginny said soberly, also keeping her voice low. "He's not good. He's pure evil, Harry. You're the only person who's close to recognizing it."

    "You agree." It wasn't a question, merely a statement of doubt. Harry once again raised one eyebrow, then the other. 

    "Yes." Ginny was a bit puzzled at his reaction. "Why, you didn't think I would?"

    Harry smirked, which looked very out of place on his face. Then he snorted. "I believed you were just trying to get me to confess something that you could use against me," he said, looking towards the door. 

    "How so?" She tried to keep the disappointment out of her tone. _He really doesn't like me, does he?_

    "I do not know why I should tell you," Harry said, his cold demeanor back in place. "For all I know you could still tell your parents what I said; have them throw me out." 

    Ginny opened her mouth in shock, and when nothing intelligent came to mind, in a hurt and defeated voice she said, "I would never do that, Harry."

    "Wouldn't you?" Harry shot back angrily, standing up abruptly. He started to head towards the door, and Ginny stood as well. "I am going to see if Maria needs any help with the food -"

    "No, don't leave," Ginny ordered, scrambling after him. He paused for a moment, and she managed to slip between him and the door, her back against it. "Don't leave yet, Harry. I would really like to talk to you. And this time, I mean _talk_."

    "We have talked many times, Highness," Harry replied, eyeing her icily. "And we have yet to discuss something that interests me."

    "Harry . . ." Ginny closed her eyes briefly, swallowed, and opened them, looking up at him once more. "Look, Harry. I know I've been terrible to you in the past. And I know that you're a servant, and that I'm a princess, and that you find it hard - no, _impossible_ - to believe that I would actually like to be your friend. But it's the _truth_, Harry. I _want_ to be your friend. If I am willing to forget the fact that you are a servant, then maybe you can forget all the awful things I've said to you, and all the awful things my family has done to yours." She paused for breath, trying to see if she was getting a reaction from him. His face remained blank, but he was most definitely listening, which gave her encouragement.

    "There is something I want you to know," she went on, her eyes shifting downward. "I don't love my family. I really don't care about them, because they don't care about me. My mother only cares about fashion and jewelry and parties and important people, and my father only cares about running the kingdom. They never have any time for me . . ." 

    "Highness, I really must -" Harry started, reaching for the doorknob.

    "Let me _finish_," she said, grabbing the knob with her own hand to keep him from getting to it. "I'm trying to apologize to you, Harry. I'm trying to apologize for all the terrible, awful, horrible, disgusting things my parents did to your mother. I'm trying to apologize for my behavior, and meanwhile, I'm trying to tell you that I'll never act that way again."

    Harry stared at her for a long time, his face revealing nothing, before he spoke. "You do not have to apologize for your parents, Highness," he said at last, quietly and dispassionately. "What they did does not concern you." 

    Ginny released the knob, realizing that that was probably the only close-to positive response she'd receive from him. Numbly, she stepped away from the door, allowing him to leave. Once he was gone, and she was in the room alone, she made her way over to a chair, at the table, on shaking legs and sunk down. 

_    Does that mean he accepts my apology?_ she wondered. But all he had said was that she didn't have to apologize for her parents. That didn't mean that he forgave her for all the things she taunted him with.

    Sighing, she placed her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. It seemed the night would never end.

* * *

Draco arrived late that night, for they hadn't been able to leave Wales until late afternoon. Edward was in a sour mood because of the delays they'd had, for none of the comfortable stagecoaches had been ready for immediate departure. Therefore, Elle was quiet the whole ride, as if afraid to anger her father, and Draco was once again bored to death the entire time.

    When they finally arrived, he was ushered to his room, accompanied by Timothy, who had come this time. The moment Draco was in bed, he fell asleep, without having time to worry about the ball the following day.

    Unfortunately, when he woke up, he felt a sense of dread. In a moment he remembered it was because of the ball that evening, and how he would be totally unprepared for it. _I'll just refuse any girls who ask me to dance_, he figured, but that still didn't ease his churning stomach.

    Being nervous bothered Draco, for he was rarely, if ever, nervous about anything. He was used to being prepared, or used to knowing that even if he did screw something up, there would always be someone to smooth it over. At Hogwarts, Professor Snape had done that. At home, his father. Here, though, he'd only look like a total idiot if he didn't know how to dance, and no father would use a Memory Charm to make them forget the incident.

    Here, he would have to look like a stuck-up git, rather than an idiot who couldn't dance.

    At breakfast, it was the first time he got to see Ginny in a few days, and healthy again. She came in after he was already seated and beginning to serve himself, their fathers arguing a bit loudly over something, her mother not yet down yet, Elle eating while she hummed some tune happily, lost in her own world. When he looked up and saw her, she flashed him a brief smile, her cheeks turning slightly red, before taking her place at the right of her father.

_    She's the one who's going to have to dance_, Draco realized then, staring down at his plate, not feeling very hungry. _She should be nervous, not me._

    He was eager to speak to her alone, but after breakfast her maid whisked her off to begin preparing for the ball. Draco wondered how long it could possibly take to get ready, but then, it wasn't so quick and easy to get dressed in these days. 

    With a sigh of despair, he left the dinning hall and went to find something to occupy himself and get his mind off the event of the evening.

* * *

Ginny took another bath, but this one was longer, and she was scrubbed clean by three maids, while a fourth maid continually scooped out the cooling water, and another replaced it with buckets of warm water. She could tell it was going to be a hectic day from the beginning.

    She'd been hoping that she'd at least have the morning to practice dancing, but that wasn't the case. She'd somehow have to get through the evening with the limited knowledge she had. This made her grateful for the hustle and bustle of everyone pampering her to take her mind off how anxious she was.

    After the bath was through, her fingers and toes were wrinkled and she smelled strongly of flowered-scented soap. Then it was back to her bed chamber to get dressed.

    "When is the ball starting?" Ginny asked Maria when she finally caught sight of her. She was darting in to grab some dirty garments on the floor.

    "Late afternoon," she replied absently, and left the room in a hurry.

    Ginny actually wished it was Maria who was helping get her ready, but she had to settle on a half dozen younger girls, all talking quickly to one another. They dressed her in a chemise and two petticoats, yanked and squeezed her tightly into a corset, and then had her step into a wide hoop skirt. She had absolutely no desire to wear it, for it felt weird not to feel a skirt brush against her legs. 

    But, as she found out after she'd put on the purple and white gown, the hoop skirt was what was keeping the hem from trailing along the floor. Instead, it barely brushed it, and she was a bit relieved, glad to know that she was less likely to trip on her feet.

    Her hair, once dry, was styled into a fancy, elaborate twist. Ginny was too busy concentrating on trying to breath evenly to notice how they did it, for she was afraid if she breathed too hard or quickly, she might pass out. The corset had to be so tight all her organs were squished either downwards or upwards. Surely a rib or two was broken. 

    Once her hair was styled, she was dabbed with powder, and it was applied so thickly it rose in clouds around her face, and she coughed. She was afraid she was going to pass out then and there, but somehow she didn't even get dizzy.

    Following all of this primping, dressing, and hair-doing, Ginny finally got a moment to herself. Most of the maids that were helping her set about cleaning up, and she was able to get away and sit on the edge of her bed, and think normally.

    Yet she found it difficult to think about anything but her dress. When she sat the hoop was pushed upwards, nearly as high as her naval. She pressed down on the skirt, and found the hoops were bendable, and made a silent prayer that they wouldn't snap around anyone. It would be terribly embarrassing.

_    Don't worry, Ginny_, she told herself dryly, _you'll be humiliated enough when you try to dance tonight. You'll never get the chance to break a hoop._

    Or maybe she would pass out from breathing too irregularly. That seemed like the most likely thing that would happen first. 

    "Highness!" Maria said sharply, appearing in the doorway. "Highness, come along! The guests will be arriving shortly!"

    Alarmed, Ginny's eyes flew to the clock. Was it really four thirty already? _Oh no_, she moaned inwardly. _Here comes humiliation._

    Slowly, so as to not topple over, for then she would never be able to get back up without help, she stood and crossed the room. She attempted to walk smoothly, and gracefully, but ended up getting a giggle from Maria.

    "You look as though you have a pole for a spine," she grinned. "Come along, you have a few minutes to practice walking in the hall."

    Out in the corridor, Ginny paced a couple of times, listening half-heartedly to the directions Maria gave her. She was becoming very nervous, her stomach humming, her body numbing. _This is going to be awful_, she predicted, lifting her chin at Maria's command, and trying to walk more naturally. _I can't even walk properly, much less dance._

    After about ten minutes, Maria sighed and joined her at her side. "Well," she said, "it is getting better. Just do your best, dear, and at least _I_ will be pleased." 

    Her warm smile calmed Ginny in the slightest. Smiling back, Ginny turned and leaned slightly over, though not too much for fear of breaking something, and gave her a hug. "Thank you, Maria," she whispered, clinging to her. She felt very uncomfortable hugging her, but it had to be because of what she was wearing. Yet it still gave her a bit of comfort, clinging to someone, and reluctantly she pulled away and straightened.

    "You look very lovely, child," Maria replied quietly, squeezing Ginny's hands reassuringly. "You will do fine, I promise." Her smile grew sly. "Chances are, the men will be tripping over their feet because they will be in awe of you."

    Ginny laughed, though she thought it was a very stupid thing to say. _If they trip,_ she thought, _it would probably be because their feet will have been caught in my skirt._

    "Oh!" Maria suddenly exclaimed. "I almost forgot. I will be back in a moment, dear, wait here." She hurried off down the hall, disappearing around the corner.

    Ginny started walking again, trying to remember what Maria had told her. _Chin up, face forward, chest out, shoulders back, breathe evenly but not too deeply . . ._ How was she supposed to remember all that when she was supposed to be recalling her dance steps?

    A second later, Maria's footsteps returned, and she was holding something glittery in her hands. When she reached her, Ginny saw, to her shock, that it was a tiara. Maria, catching the expression on her face, smiled and held it up so she could see it better. Ginny was terrified to touch it; terrified she might drop and shatter it.

    It was silver, with delicate swirls made of sparkling . . . "Diamonds?" Ginny asked quietly, afraid that if she spoke too loudly it might disappear. "Is it made of diamonds?"

    "Of course." Maria beamed. "Lower your head, I shall put it on for you."

    This time, Ginny barely noticed how much it hurt to bend over. She felt Maria place the tiara in place, then straightened when she was through. Now she would be far too worried to move too quickly, for the beautiful object might fall off.

    "Do not fret about it falling off," Maria said, as if reading her mind. "There are combs on the sides, did you not see? It will hold in place securely."

    "Its . . . beautiful." Beautiful seemed too weak a word. 

    At that very moment, Ginny fell in love with being a princess.

* * *

There was a ballroom for such occasions - a ballroom so big, Draco guessed that perhaps two, maybe three, Great Halls could fit securely in it, and still have a little room left over.

    He was wearing a ridiculous green outfit - the trousers were far too tight, and the doublet was far too poofy. He felt like a scrawny-legged, barrel-chested, beer-bellied old man with a plain gold crown on his head . . . and ruffles.

    But there was lots of food. And at the far end of the room was an altar, upon which he got his very own throne. Ginny's was on, where Draco was standing, the far right, with her father's to her right, then her mother's, then Edward's, then Elle's, and finally, on the far left, Draco's. And, after sitting there for nearly an hour of the ball, he'd been very comfortable.

    Yet his empty stomach had gotten the best of him, and he'd left his throne to make his way to one of the tables. Unfortunately, he knew too well, that his throne was his safety zone - no girl dared step up to ask him to dance. Once he left it, though, he was free. The bravest girl would ask him first, and that would encourage the others, and then he'd be asked left and right. He needed to grab some food and hurry back.

    There was one obstacle that stood in his way, though - as his eyes searched the long table piled with food, he could not, for the life of him, find a napkin. Or any rag of some sort, in which he could take a leg of meat and a couple of grapes and get back to his throne. Becoming frustrated, he was tempted to just rip a piece of the tablecloth off. Except that would've been hard, since it looked like it was made of strong linen.

    Sighing, Draco just grabbed an apple and headed back to the altar. On the way he was stopped for the first time.

    A girl, around his age, with stick-like brown hair and wide brown eyes, wearing a pink dress, popped out of nowhere in front of him, curtsying deeply. She blocked his path, and before he could dodge around her, she was already raising her head. He couldn't leave without her noticing, and he didn't want her to think he was that big of a git. So he gritted his teeth and waited.

    "Hello, Highness," she said, her voice trembling only a little. She wasn't exactly a pretty girl, for when she flashed him a shaky smile he saw a mouthful of the most crooked, yellow and gray teeth he'd ever seen, but she wasn't ugly, either. "How are you fairing? I hope I find you in good health."

    Draco took a big bite of the apple, trying not to wince at the taste of the skin in his mouth. He desperately wished he had a knife to skin it with, for apple skin was disgusting and tough and chewy, but he didn't, and he was stuck either with apple and its skin or an empty stomach. With his mouthful, and a slightly wrinkled nose, he replied, "I'm fine, thank you. But if you've come to talk about health maybe you should ask Princess Ginny. This is a party for her well-being, not mine."

    The girl's smile faltered before it disappeared altogether. "Would you care to dance?" she asked dejectedly, knowing the answer.

    "No thank you, I would like to return to my seat. Thank you," he added with a nod, and stepped around her, feeling her eyes bore into his back. He had just been as damned polite as he could possibly be, and she was still sour at him. _Well_, he thought, taking another bite of apple and wincing quite visibly, _you can't win everyone, can you?_

    He was halfway to his throne when he was stopped yet again, this time by a man. For one fleeting minute Draco thought that maybe he was going to ask him to dance, but instead, the man just grinned broadly, said loudly, "Draco! How are you fairing, boy?" while clapping him on the shoulder.

    The man was tall, over six feet, and broad. Draco felt short and puny beside him, especially with his stick-like legs. He had to slightly tilt his head to see his face, and no matter how many times his eyes scanned his features, the blonde hair and blue eyes, nothing struck Draco as familiar. The way he addressed Draco proved that he had to be an old friend of some sort.

    Draco realized he was waiting for an answer, and hurriedly answered through a mouthful of apple, "Just fine, thank you." He swallowed before taking another bite.

    The man continued to grin broadly down at him, hand still on his shoulder, continuing to wait for Draco to say something else. When he didn't, the man laughed deeply, turning towards the thrones. "Princess Ginny is looking very nice tonight," he commented, looking in her direction. She was sitting down at her throne, looking almost bored.

    "Mm-hmm," Draco replied absently. The truth was, he'd been trying not to think about Ginny all night. She was looking _too _good. It was important to keep his mind on anything besides how she was looking, for he knew very well he was feeling attracted to her. That much was clear, and he couldn't tell himself otherwise. The only way to cope was to not think about her at all. 

    "The big day is coming up, is it not?" the man continued, smiling in Ginny's direction for a moment more before turning back to Draco. "Only, what, ten more days?"

    Draco nodded, realizing that was about right. Today was the fifteenth. There was only ten days left before he married her. It made his stomach stir unpleasantly, and he desperately wished the man would change the subject.

    "Well," he said with finality, hinting the end of the conversation, "it is good to see you again, Draco. You never come out to visit me anymore, not like you did when you were younger. Do you not enjoy visiting your only uncle anymore?"

    Draco just managed to stop himself from repeated, Uncle? Instead, he forced a smile. "Sorry, er, Uncle," he said. "I'll be sure to come out someday soon."

    "Good," his uncle said, clapping his shoulder on final time. "Good."

    And then he blended in with the crowd.

    Draco had had no idea he'd had an uncle. Why hadn't Edward ever mentioned it? Well, it didn't really matter. Maybe they weren't the best of brothers. Or perhaps . . . 

_    He's supposed to be my mother's brother_, he recognized. They definitely had the same sort of blonde hair, even if the man's was a shade or two darker.

    Putting it out of his mind, Draco managed to make it back to his throne. Elle sat on hers, beside him, wearing an elaborate dress of blue velvet and a gold tiara, watching the ball with interest. She was humming along with the music, and looked as though she longed to be out there dancing.  

    Having enough of the revolting apple skin, Draco set the apple down between his and her thrones. Leaning over, he asked, "Why don't you find someone who will dance with you?" 

    Startled, she looked over at him. She smiled, but it was a sad smile. "There is no one my age here," she said with a sigh, looking out at the dancing couples once again. 

    Draco actually wished, if only for a second, that he knew how to dance so he could to so with her. But in an instant that wish vanished, and he leaned back and surveyed the guests.

    A half hour passed, and the ball showed no signs of slowing. Glancing at the monstrous clock on the wall, Draco saw it was only seven o'clock. It could go on for another three or four hours. Sighing with annoyance, Draco slid down in his seat and prayed it would end soon.

_    Then maybe I'll be able to get something decent to eat_, he thought.

* * *

_Yes!_ Ginny thought, glancing at the clock. _It's ten thirty and I haven't had to dance once!_

    The ball had to be ending soon. It'd been absolutely _dull_ sitting on her throne the entire time, and she'd occupied herself half the time concentrating on her breathing. But it was worth it, because she hadn't had to dance.

    The best thing, though, was that Tom hadn't been able to make it. That made the dress almost seem all right.

_    Maybe royalty is supposed to sit up on their thrones the entire time_, she mused. She'd only seen her parents and Draco's father get up a couple of times, and that was to either get food or to chat with some important guest or old friend. At one point even Draco had gotten up.

    Now, though, they were all sitting. And Ginny was praying and praying and praying that it would end.

    She was immensely relieved when her father stood up, and at once a hush fell over the room, and the musicians stopped playing, lowering their instruments. King Robert cleared his throat, then announced in a loud, bold voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to bring an end to this wonderful evening . . ." Ginny actually snorted - it wasn't like he'd done anything to make it wonderful. ". . . But I must.

    "As every one of you know very well, in precisely ten days my daughter will be wed to Prince Draco Malfoy," he continued, and Ginny stopped breathing for a moment at the mention of her. Dread crept into her stomach, trickled down her spine . . . for some reason, she knew exactly what her father was going to say even before he did so. While King Robert paused to allow for soft applause, she forced herself to breathe normally. "So before you leave tonight, I would like you to remain for one last dance - one last dance of my wonderful daughter, and her fiancé."

    This time the applause was louder, and Ginny blinked. _This can't be happening_, she thought. It had never occurred to her that she might have to dance with _Draco._ She'd been far too worried about being forced to partner with Tom. Since he wasn't even there, that fear had evaporated, but for some reason she'd forgotten about Draco. 

    Every eye was on her. It took her a moment to remember that she had to stand, and she rose, feeling about ready to faint. As she unclasped the long cape, letting drop back onto her throne, she saw that to her relief, though small as it may have been, the guests had all moved to the sides of the ballroom, leaving a large dancing space in the middle. _At least_, she thought, trying to swallow, _we'll be dancing by ourselves._

    She leaned forward slightly and glanced over at Draco, whose throne was farthest from hers. She couldn't see his face, but she could hear Elle whispering to him, and a moment later he stood as well. He looked bothered, with a trace of a scowl on his mouth, and his jaw clenched. 

    Of course, he also looked as composed and confident as usual. Even when he had no idea what he was doing, he managed to seem like he was. 

    Ginny, trying to remember how to walk in the blasted dress, went down the three stairs of the altar, reaching the hardwood floor. Draco did the same, though rather slowly. It was the first time she'd gotten to see him - _really_ see him - and his outfit made her want to giggle like a maniac. It almost looked like he was wearing tights. 

    His scowl deepened when he saw her bring a hand to her mouth, trying to cover her grin. Then, the musicians started playing. Ginny felt her smile drop off her face, noticing that it was their cue to start dancing.

    She figured the only dance that would go with this sort of music was a slow one. The room dimmed all at once, and she saw that the maids had snuffed many of the candles out. Feeling a chill, she made herself move towards Draco. The shadows danced across his face, the candlelight glittered on his hair, sparkled on his plain gold crown. She suddenly forgot about the amusing outfit he was wearing, and thought instantly, _He looks absolutely gorgeous._

    A moment later she recalled that she was the only one of them who was close to knowing how the dance went. Taking a deep breath, she stepped in front of him, the music floating around her head, making her feel as though she were in a dream. Her breathing quickened as she felt the warmth of his body, so close to hers, and took his right hand in hers, raising it slightly. 

    "Put your hand on my waist," she said, so quietly it was lower than whisper, afraid that people would notice that she was positioning him. He obeyed, and she placed her own hand on his arm.

    Ginny began to move her feet, unsure exactly of _how_ they were supposed to do this particular dance. Maria had only showed her the stance, not the steps. _I guess we'll just have to make it up_, she figured. After all, who was going to stop them just because they weren't doing the right dance moves?

    At first, as they moved to the middle of the room, dancing slowly and awkwardly, she avoided Draco's eyes. She felt flushed, and warm, being so near to him, with her hand enveloped firmly in his. Her nerves seemed to tingle where his skin touched hers. She'd never really felt like this before, never felt so completely charmed by a boy. It just felt . . . right.

    For the first time in a week, she felt calm; she felt like everything was right in the world. Lifting her eyes, she saw Draco staring at her - no, staring above her . . . at her tiara. He smirked when he felt her eyes on his face. "How come your crown gets diamonds?" he asked in a whisper. 

    She grinned, despite herself. "All you get is a plain gold one . . . and green tights." Remembering that, she burst into giggles.

    "They aren't tights," he snapped defensively. "And besides, you think _I_ picked this bloody outfit out?"

    "They sure look like tights," she said through her laughter, trying desperately to stop. The expression on his face, though, just amused her more. 

    He glanced around, irritated, and said harshly, "Will you shut up? Everyone's watching us. They wouldn't want to see me shove you away and make you fall."

_    That'll probably just make me laugh harder_, she mused, but managed to quiet down to a mere smile. "I wish I had a camera. No one will believe me when I tell them that you actually wore . . . what you're wearing."

    "That's right, they won't," he sneered. "Because if you tell anyone I'll sneak into your house at night and use Permanent Dye to color your hair bright purple. And trust me, even _that_ won't be an improvement."

    Ginny had to squeeze her mouth shut to not laugh again. She was well aware that if this had been a couple of days ago, or if they'd been in their real time, then she would've been mad at that comment. But things were suddenly different now. She didn't know when things had changed, or when she had stopped hating Draco Malfoy. But suddenly, he didn't seem all that bad. In fact, she was almost glad to be with him now. At that minute she couldn't think of anyone else she'd rather be with.

    They both really hadn't danced, exactly. Now they were just standing in place, sort of moving their weight from foot to foot. But no one had said anything; everyone was still watching with rapt attention, as if it was the most exciting, drama-filled experience they'd ever had. 

    "Have you seen Dumbledore?" Ginny asked abruptly, remembering the question she'd been meaning to ask him all day.

    Draco frowned a bit and replied, "I tried to. But he wouldn't let me in."

    She felt another giggle bubbling up. "Wouldn't let you in?" she choked out, trying to stay sober.

    He nodded, making an annoyed sound, and glanced over at the crowd of people crammed near the walls. "He told me I had to come back with you."

_    That_ didn't amuse Ginny in the slightest. "With me?"

    Draco returned his narrowed eyes to hers. "Yes, Ginny, that's what I said. You don't have to repeat everything I say."

    "Sorry," she said briefly. "But did he not let you in because you had to come back with me?"

    "Well, I assumed he meant you," said Draco. "He said something like, 'Come back with the girl.' I'm guessing that you're 'the girl'."

    "That's weird," Ginny said, deep in thought. After another moment, she asked, "What did he look like? Was he . . . well, Dumbledore?"

    "Yes, he was," Draco answered, the corners of his mouth lifting up slightly. "I didn't get to speak to him much, but from what I did hear he sounded like his normal, crack-pot self."

    She grinned, feeling weight lifted off her shoulders. "Good. Then he'll most likely know how we got here. Or at least how to get us back."

    Draco nodded distractedly, but did not reply. They were silent, the slow, almost mournful music the only sound that filled the room. Then Draco recalled something, and asked, "I thought Tom was supposed to be here."

    Ginny immediately stiffened, but managed to keep her feet moving. She looked down and muttered, "He couldn't come, thank God."

    "Couldn't come? As in, he wasn't invited?" 

    "Oh, he was invited," Ginny said bitterly, glancing up again. "My parents told me that he had another patient to attend to somewhere south. I was so happy that he wasn't coming that I didn't ask for details."

    "Has he . . ." He trailed off, breaking their gaze. "Has he been bothering you?"

    Ginny's jaw dropped a bit in shock, but he was looking away so he didn't see. _Did Draco just ask me something . . . something that made him sound _concerned? she wondered, quickly closing her mouth. Regaining her composure, she said quietly, "No, I haven't seen him since I've gotten better." Then, in a fiercer tone, she added, "When I'm queen, he's going to be thrown in the dungeon. Locked up forever. I'll never let him out again."

    Draco raised a finely groomed eyebrow. "Why lock him up?"

    "Because he's the one who's been killing those families!" Ginny exclaimed, before remembering to lower her voice. 

    Draco gave her an odd look. "Well, I can see how you would think that, but -"

    "No, Draco, I actually saw him," Ginny protested softly. "I - I dreamed about it." Suddenly, saying it out loud, it didn't seem as believable. It sounded almost absurd.

    "Dreams are dreams, Ginny." He frowned. "They don't mean anything."

    "But these dreams do," she insisted. 

    "How? How are they different than any other dream of . . . of walking into Potions naked?"

    If she hadn't been trying to get such an important point across, she might've laughed. "Because it feels so real," she said inaudibly.

    Draco heard her clearly, and let out a short laugh. "So does every other dream a person has."

    "No, but I'd been having the same dream for a few days in a row, the only difference being there were different people being murdered." She lowered her voice to a whisper, bringing her face closer to his. "And they started after I took that potion that Tom gave me. They ended the very day I got better. Don't you reckon that's . . . well, weird?"

    She hadn't realized how _close_ she'd brought her face to his, because now their noses were nearly touching. A lump popped up in her throat, and she completely forgot about what she'd been trying to say. Instead, she was very aware of how his breath was on her cheek, of how their bodies were nearly totally pressed together, of how her heart was pounding irregularly. Her knees honestly felt a bit weak.

    "I don't care, Ginny," he murmured.

    She barely heard him. She kept imagining the feel of his mouth on hers, of her hands through his hair . . . it was hard to think of much else. Everyone in the room faded into a blur and the music seemed to melt away into nothingness. . . .

    Ginny wasn't sure which one of them leaned forward, but suddenly their lips were touching, just barely. All coherent thoughts disappeared, and her pulse quickened, her skin heated . . . and yet, it wasn't even much of a kiss. His mouth was cool, but when it touched hers it seemed to burn. He brushed his lips against her own before he pulled back, making her half-closed eyelids fly up in surprise. He stepped away, dropping her hand, leaving the area of her body where his had been before feeling cold. 

    "The song's ended," he said quietly, and jerked his eyes away.

    Ginny noticed that he was right – the music had stopped, and the musicians were lowering their instruments. She hadn't even known . . . the rise of the guest's voices filled the ballroom once more, and they rushed out onto the floor. She stood there, losing sight of Draco as a swarm of giggly girls surrounded her, suddenly feeling very chilly. 

    But, she realized, she also felt the lightest and happiest she had in a week.

    And so the first, and most likely last, ball of Ginny's life ended.

* * *

A/N: Well, there's your really long chapter to make up for the almost-month it took me to post. The D/G action wasn't too heavy, but it'll get there eventually, don't worry. Oh, and if you wanna see what I based Ginny's ball dress on, go here: http://www.renaissancedress.com/cape10.jpg 

The reason it actually took so long to get out is because I had to research the type of dances they did and a bunch of other stuff. Do you know how frickin' hard it is to find stuff on the early seventeenth century? From all the junk on the Internet, you'd think right after the sixteenth century it jumped to the eighteenth. But I learned something from it – this fic takes place in the Renaissance period! (at least I think so, it never really _said_: 1607 – Renaissance, but I'm pretty close, I'm sure). Unfortunately, all the crap on the Net was about Italians, and I was like, Isn't there _one freaking site_ that has stuff on England?!! 

And did you know that the waltz wasn't popular until the eighteen hundreds? I was _sure_ that it'd be popular during this time . . .

Also, I'm really sorry for such a long and boring chapter. I don't really like it much because it seems to drag on and on and on . . .

Oh yes, and I'm rather aware that during this time the British and the French weren't exactly great friends, so it'd be _very_ unlikely for someone like Marquis to leave the royal family in France just for Ginny. But let's pretend that in this world it can happen, okie dokie?

But anyway, I got _a lot_ of reviews for that last chapter, as in _95_ – thank you all! It makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside . . . And because you all took the time to review, I'll take the time to thank you all! 

Thank ya bunches to:

**Rebecca**, **wmlaw** (there is lots more kissing to come!), **Bluebubblegrl** (hmm, is Tom really evil . . .?), **The Jade Princess **(Of course I didn't forget Harry, and James is just, uh, hiding . . . or something . . .), **Swedish Girl** (plenty more Dumbledore in the next chapter, I hope), **j_burd04, mE, Mionee** (Don't worry, I babble a lot too. And I agree, I hate it when romance between Draco/another character is rushed. It's just so annoying!), **short skirt, long jacket** (sorry! Hope this chapter wasn't as scary :^D), **DarkIllusion, Korinna Myorin, Reine Dansante** (you'll just have to wait and see who Tom's accomplice is! And there will most definitely be more romance, don't worry!), **Ally-Moore** (everyone likes D/G kisses!), **Irishmoon** (heh, sorry for making it such a weird chapter. Fuckmonkies, huh? That's a new word – I'll hafta use it!), **Night Spirit** (sorry! Hope it wasn't too terrible . . . oh, who am I kidding, it _was_ terrible, but I don't think there'll be much more.) **HARRY POTTER ROCKS, lise, dragona**, **jilly anne** (yes, I have posted this on Schnoogle, actually. And I'm not going to give up, not without finishing it!), **Rakkriss, audig **(hmm, why _did_ Ginny have that "vision"? Dum, dum, duummm), **Kalendria** (gotta love mushy, gushy, touchy D/G :) ), **Britt** (thanks!), **Water Sprite** (sorry, didn't mean to make you sick!), **Julie B. **(professional, huh? Well, maybe . . .), **StrangerWithMyFace** (wonky? LOL, he might be), **iloveoliverwood**, **wildmajik, Satans Little Princess, Rose Tangle **(I agree, soft!Draco is definitely not good. And I'm sorry about the violence scene, but you're quite right, I was afraid of making it _too_ graphic for some people :) So anyway, thank you much!), **Dramafreak192844** (still don't know who Tom's accomplice is . . . heh, terribly sorry ::grins evilly::), **emmanem** (you are very welcome!), **Calender-Chan **(get rid of Riddle? Hmm, I might. Sorry I didn't write soon!), **Dorthey Star **(hee hee, I love knowing who it is and having you guess! You'll find out eventually who Tom's partner is, don't worry), **Xaviera Xylira** (Thank you!), **Daft Bugger** (sorry, I hope I didn't do it this time!), **FireSprite **(heh, sorry, Emma! But I'm glad you like Elle, I hope she'll play a bigger part later on), **sam i am, Echo Chik, sOmEoNeSpEcIaL** (hmm, who could it be? And of course Elle's not sick, you think I'm that mean?), **Ta Dot** (I think I decided she had respiratory pneumonia [is there such kind? Anyway, it was the pneumonia of the respiratory track or something like that, I'm not exactly sure], and let's just say that Maria is really healthy and doesn't catch it. I actually had a very good holiday, the only blood being drawn was from me scratching my brothers' eyeballs out [that was a joke, by the way . . . ha. Ha. Ha.] But I just needed to get the "badness" of Tom across), **Athena Lionfire16**, **TheGirlWhoLived **(more snogs coming, of course! ;^D), **Arlyna Lyndomier **(I'm glad to hear it!), **carolynne** (I'm sorry it was confusing! Hope it's clear now . . .?), **danabird **(thank you!), **Twink **(I know there are a lot of questions, but they should be answered by, uh, the end of the story, heh), **littlebit** (sorry to creep you out!), **cammie, The Oreo of Love **(wow, I'm very honored!), **animequeen36 **(of course, D/G rocks!), **arcee, ~*Crystal Lily*~, Shinga **(Draco will lighten up eventually, er, I hope), **Angie **(terribly sorry for taking so long to update! Since Draco and Gin were somewhat civil to each other, I hope you are able to sleep now), **FireBallFlier **(Ron, huh? Oh, I love Ron to pieces, but I'm not sure if I can bring him in this fic, sorry :(), **Kitty** (they won't get married for another little while!), **The Blue Faerie** (Dumbledore will appear more in the next chapter, promise), **mooncake, Bella **(Never read D/G? You don't know what you're missing! And I love getting reviews, so I just _have_ to take the time to thank those who give them! So thank you so very much, your review just totally brightened my day :) ), **Tangerine Caprigrrl **(I won't get rid of Tom till the end, I swear it! He's the resident bad guy. Anyway, thanks a lot!), **vicsamky, Dark-angel, Stargazer **(thank you so much!), **Swim Angel, Sellene **(heh, I agree, the title is terrible. But I really can't think of good titles, terribly sorry. And since the beginning chapters were too short, I joined them together to submit them to Schnoogle, which is why there are a different number of chapters there and here), **Angel Starr**, **Firefly** (thanks, I know it was horrifying, and it does make sense!), **teal llama, Misssy76, hp_angel4life** (Of course they belong together! Thank you), **prettykitty **(gah, sorry this chapter took so long, ^__^ And I'm just thrilled at having a stalker!), **Shadow Dragon **(no, it wouldn't be dumb to think it's Harry or James, but you'll just have to see!), **Cloudzi **(homework! Baka, who needs homework? Just kidding, of course . . .), **darkangelchick **(ooh, a shinny penny! Hee hee, thanks!), **soccerqt_Ashley**, **Priya-Chan, Ashes **(thank you!), **ChildLikeTendencies** (whoosh, don't even get me started on Orlando! I could write an entire paragraph or twenty on him. Yes, he's gorgeous!), **Lyn **(sorry it took so long!), **Ravenclawgirly **(I'm sorry, I tried to go quickly!), **chaos-frack**, **Strega Mione, **and** Lyn **(are you the same Lyn who reviewed before? Well, if you are, then you get thanked twice!)

And, as always, thanks to Christine!

Whoosh, that's a lot. I really hope I didn't miss anyone. 

Hope to get the next chapter out sooner! Please review!


	10. Gypsies

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns it all.

A/N: I'm sorry for the long delay it took to get this chapter out, and I'm even sorrier that it's shorter than usual! But there is some D/G action, soooo . . . it's all good, right?

**Chapter Ten**

**_Gypsies_**

Draco slept soundly throughout the night. He had expected to toss and turn until dawn, cursing himself for acting like he'd wanted Ginny, for imagining himself pulling her warm body to his and kissing her, so hard it'd take her breath away and she have to lean against him . . . and that was an image he did not need to see. Fortunately, merciful sleep claimed him, and he slept straight until the morning.

Timothy woke him up, cautiously as though Draco might shatter - or worse, explode - if he whispered too loudly. "T-time to ri-rise, Highness," he said quietly, standing near the bedside and looking nervous.

Draco woke slowly, blinking and rising to his elbows. For a minute he was lost in his surroundings; this room was not his at his castle, nor was it at Malfoy Manor. When he did remember where he was the memories from the night before rushed back to him. Right then he wished to God that it'd never happened. He _couldn't let a Weasley like Ginny get under his skin and into his blood. He just __couldn't. Because once everything was normal again, once they were back in their regular time, he wouldn't feel this way about her anymore. The feelings he had inside him were simply created from the hopelessness and the confusion of the situation. They'd vanish the instant he was back in his house, safe and sound in the year of 1997._

So he needed to forget about how wonderful it felt to feel her flesh touching his. He needed to forget the sensations that resulted when her knuckles grazed his cheek when their lips were near, and how wonderful it felt to brush her silky, fiery hair with his fingertips. He needed to shove it all out of his mind and think negative things about her. Think of how irritating she was when she was angry. Of how young, naive, and innocent she was. Of how totally _wrong she was for him._

"H-Highness," Timother sputtered, breaking into Draco's thoughts. "B-breakfast is about t-to be s-served. Wo-would you care m-me to dress you?"

Draco had no other choice. Of course he'd care, but he wouldn't object.

He went down to the dinning hall, Timothy at his heels, thirty minutes later. The only thing on his mind, thankfully, was when he'd be going back to Wales and when he'd be able to visit Dumbledore again; perhaps try to convince him Draco didn't need to Ginny to be with him when they discussed . . . whatever they were going to discuss. He was not, in fact, thinking of a certain red-haired princess in which he'd be married to in less than two weeks . . .

Scowling, he entered the hall and found Elle already seated at the table. Across from her, diagonally, sat Tom. 

Draco paused, slowly glancing around the near-empty monstrous room. Where was his father? Ginny's parents? Ginny?

"Come, Draco, the food is getting cold," Elle called. "Do not just stand there . . ."

Draco put on a blank face and sat beside Elle, across from Tom. A moment too late did he realize that once Ginny joined them, if she did, then she'd be forced to sit at the head of the table or look rude; she'd have to sit between him and Tom. And knowing her thoughts on Tom, she would not enjoy it.

_Oh well, Draco thought, shrugging and putting it out of his mind._

He snuck a look over at the doctor while he was filling his plate. Tom had a pleasant look on his face, a small smile on his lips, as if he was pleased or satisfied about something. He seemed interested in his food, staring down at the plate, but glanced up suddenly to clash his brilliant blue eyes with Draco's gray ones.

Normally, Draco would've stared right back until Tom looked away first, but something in his gaze chilled Draco. Rarely, if ever, did he feel fear, yet the way Tom held his eyes sent an uneasy chill trickling down into his stomach. 

When Tom blinked, Draco looked away quickly, the odd feeling vanishing immediately. Draco then felt foolish, cursing himself inside his head. He had absolutely no reason to be even remotely afraid of him. Just because Tom looked as Lord Voldemort did when he was younger didn't mean he _was. There was just no possible way it could be the real Tom Riddle, for Voldemort was dead in the future, and couldn't have sent them back in time. _

Draco remembered what Ginny had told him of her dreams the night before. Of course, it would make most sense that Tom was the one murdering the families, because . . . well, it just did. No one else in this time would be brutal enough for it, and even if Tom wasn't Riddle, then maybe he had the same killing instincts of him.

Still, that didn't give Draco a reason to be afraid. He had no proof whatsoever that Tom was anything but a kind and young doctor who managed to heal Ginny remarkably quickly. Parts of him believed that she really did dream of him killing people, but that wasn't a reliable source. Dreams were dreams - it could be just her subconcious mind taking over at night and putting her worst fear into images. 

As if on cue, Ginny walked into the hall then. Draco pretended not to notice, poking at his food, and heard her footsteps falter near the doorway, before she slowly started moving again.

Tom, who hadn't made any greetings to Draco whatsoever, looked up as Ginny entered and smiled. "Good morning, Virginia," he called.

Ginny didn't reply as she slid into the seat at the head of the table, between Tom and Draco. 

There was a long, almost awkward silence. Draco could barely even hear Elle, who sat at his right, chewing. Even she seemed to realize the tension in the air was thick and kept solemn. 

Then Tom found a topic and asked politely, "How did the ball go, Ginny?"

Draco noticed that he only seemed to talk to _her. With a glance at her, he saw that she kept her eyes down, biting her lower lip. He knew she wasn't going to reply, so he jumped in. "It was boring,"  he drawled._

Tom looked over at him, and once again Draco felt a ripple of fear travel through his body. "I am very sorry I could not attend," said Tom.

"So am I," piped up Elle, eager to chat. "But Draco is right - it _was awfully boring. I was not allowed to dance because I was the youngest -"_

"Did you dance at all, Ginny?" Tom cut in, completely ignoring Elle. Draco noticed the light in her eyes fade as she slumped her shoulders, frowning down at her food. 

"Well, my sister _was talking to you," he snapped darkly at Tom, feeling the need to defend Elle. "Even if you weren't listening you could've waited until she was done."_

Ginny met his eyes, and he could've sworn she gave him a tiny smile.

"I am very sorry, Isabella," Tom said politely, flashing Elle a grin. "Sometimes I am off in my own world and do not notice things. Do continue."

Elle opened her mouth to reply, looking happy again, when Draco jumped in first.

"Don't notice things? You didn't notice she was speaking?" he demanded. 

Tom looked amused while Elle whined, "Dray-_co!"_

"I'm not hungry," Ginny suddenly announced, standing abruptly. She hadn't touched food - in fact, her plate remained empty. "I'm going for a walk."

"Allow me to accompany you," Tom offered, hurrying to his feet as well. 

Draco didn't even hear the huff of annoyance Elle gave at being forgotten. He was studying Ginny's expression as she stared at Tom. She looked almost frightened. 

"No! You don't have to," she insisted before turning and hurrying out of the hall.

Tom stopped in the middle of the room, his eyebrows raised in surprise. He turned to Draco and gave a short shrug. "I do not know why she fears me," he said simply, returning to his seat. "She flees every time I try to be kind to her."

Draco chose not to reply. What could he say? 

"Father is in town with Ginny's parents," Elle announced, trying to fill the air with conversation. "Another family was murdered."

Draco tried to see Tom's reaction to this. Tom merely widened his eyes in surprise, looking interested, and said, "That is simply awful. How many families does that make now? Five?"

"Six," Elle said, nodding sadly, though hardly able to contain her happiness that Tom was paying attention to her. 

"Do you have any clue as to who's doing it?" Draco said casually, though he knew the question was far from normal. 

"Why would I know?" Elle cried.

"Not you, him," Draco snapped a bit too harshly, nodding towards Tom.

"I haven't one guess," Tom declared.

Draco stared at him for a moment longer, then looked back at his plate. _Everything seems to get worse, he thought with a frown, __and never any better._

* * *

Ginny stormed out of the hall, trying to calm herself down. She needed to act smooth and cool around Tom, not totally blow up in his face. Letting him know she was terrified of him wouldn't get her anywhere. It just showed her weakness. 

But just the arrogant way he _looked at her was enough to drive her insane. Sometimes annoyance peaked through her fear whenever he laid eyes on her, and even though her insides felt icy when he did so, she could feel her face flush darkly with anger. How could he manage to get so many reactions from her? She knew he was evil, and yet . . . she felt mixed up about him; confused. _

_I need to speak with Draco, she realized, pausing at the end of the corridor. She'd wait for him to come out of the dining hall. __I'll just have to hope that Tom doesn't come out first, she added in her mind._

After standing there for two minutes she became utterly bored, so she walked to the window. It took effort to pull the heavy velvet drapes aside, and had to tuck it behind her so it was out of the way. The window was ceiling high, and the glass was cold, since there was a light snow falling once again outside. Being on the first floor, it was hard to see anything but the vast white of the grounds, but still, it was better than looking at the blank gray walls.

She stared out, her mind blank, when she heard footsteps coming from the direction of the dining room. Glancing up, she saw to her relief – and good luck – that it was Draco, who had thankfully come out before Tom. She motioned for him to come to her, and when he was standing before her, she spoke.

"We need to get out of here," she told him, quietly but urgently.

"Did you _just figure that out, Weasley?" he asked with a sneer._

"I've been meaning to visit that woman, Alexandria, for the past couple of days," she went on, ignoring him. "I was hoping . . ." She trailed off, catching herself. She was about to say "I was hoping to go with Harry", yet Draco did not need to know that. "I reckon that now is as good a time as ever. Plus, it'll get me away from Tom."

"Another family was murdered, you know," Draco told her casually, his eyes blank, his face void of any emotion.

Ginny felt the blood leave her face. "God, that's where he was last night," she whispered, her stomach flopping. "That's why he didn't attend the ball. Doesn't _anyone in this damn world notice that whenever __he's gone, the murders happen? Can't they put two and two together?"_

"Ginny," Draco started, a hint of impatience in his tone, "he's a respected, world-famous doctor. They would sooner suspect you than him. Think about it."

Her horror slowly melted into fury. For a moment she had a wild vision of Draco being Tom's sidekick. _Could it be? she wondered, staring hotly at him as she thought quickly. __No, it can't, he was at the ball last night._

But she hadn't had a dream last night about the killing that took place during the ball. For all she knew Tom could've been alone this one time.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" she demanded sharply. "If I didn't know better I'd say _you were helping him!"_

Immediately she regretted the words, wishing she could take them back. Draco's eyes widened, then darkened in anger. He paled before reddening slightly in the cheeks. Stepping forward, he placed his face very near hers. Startled, she stepped away from him with a gasp, finding that her back was now pressed up against the cool window. 

"You _don't know any better," he whispered harshly, his face so close their noses were nearly touching; his eyes nearly melted together into one big one. "So don't make accusations that you don't know shit about."_

She was more surprised than frightened at his sudden show of rage. She reached up her arms and slid them between the both of them, pressing them against his chest in attempt to push him away. He didn't budge and continued to glare into her eyes.

"Get . . . away, Draco," she gasped out, wondering why she found him so irresistible when he was practically threatening her. Feelings that she'd felt only the night before came rushing back to her, swirling around inside her until she found it a difficult task to remain standing. Behind her, the coldness of the glass was seeping through her clothes. But before her, Draco's heat was pouring into her, as if she wore nothing, as if nothing could block his touch. 

Suddenly, without warning, his mouth crashed down on hers, devouring her. Instantly every normal, sensible, rational thought flew from her mind and she kissed him back just as passionately, knowing deep inside her that it was what she'd wanted all along . . .

He was leaning on to her, pressing her back against the window. He kissed her with such force her head actually thumped the glass, and she barely noticed. She couldn't feel any of the coldness of the window anymore; it was nothing but fire. Fire in her veins, fire on her skin, fire on her mouth . . . Now she was definitely having a hard time standing.

His hands were gripping her shoulders hard, like he was holding her up on her feet. Suddenly his lips left hers and trailed down off her cheek, and onto her neck. She closed her eyes, wishing that it would never end. 

Her own arms were around his neck, clinging to him while bringing him closer all the while. He was placing frantic kisses on her throat, on her collarbone, until finally he was at her mouth again. 

_This is unbelievable, she managed to think, dazedly and drowsily. She was kissing Draco just as fiercely as he was kissing her, and it was beginning to make her feel woozy. __No one would believe that at one time we hated each other._

The thought was like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. Still, it took effort to decide to break off the kiss. Finding that she couldn't move her head any farther back, she wrenched her face to the side, closing her eyes and lowering her head, causing Draco to suddenly be kissing her cheek. For a moment, neither of them moved – she could feel his nose pressed against the side of her face, his lips barely touching her, his breath hot on her skin. Ginny's arms slid limply from his shoulders and dropped to her sides, and it took all of her self control not to grab him again.

_What am I doing? she wondered. __These feelings . . . they can't be real. I can't be feeling this way about Draco Malfoy. I hate__ the slimy git. He hates me. We're only acting like this because . . ._

Because why? That she wasn't sure of. Was it because they were in an entirely different world, and that's why they felt entirely different about each other? Was there some sort of magic in the air that made him so alluring to her, and she to him? Or was it simply because she felt so alone, and so terrified, that she would eagerly grab at anything familiar, even if it was the vile Draco Malfoy?

_He's not vile, she corrected herself, almost automatically. __Quite the opposite, really.__ He's one of the best kissers I've ever experienced. Hell, he's the__ best._

Draco's sharp intake of breath brought her back to reality, and she began to speak as he pulled his face away from hers. "Why are you doing this, Draco?" she asked quietly.

Slowly, she turned her head to meet his eyes, and found him staring at her intensely. Chills ran down her spine – pleasant chills. Why was she suddenly feeling so attracted to him? When had this happened? It seemed to have suddenly appeared overnight. 

"Because you let me." He answered her question through what sounded like gritted teeth.

Her heart seemed to drop down into her stomach briefly before returning to her chest and beating madly beneath her ribs. She couldn't stare in his eyes any longer, she needed to look away . . . and yet, she couldn't. _This can't be happening, she thought. __This has all got to be some horrible dream. All of it! I'm still asleep in Hogwarts, and when I wake up, everything will be fine . . ._

Yet she'd given up on believing this was a dream the first day she'd arrived here. This was really happening. And she was really beginning to fall for Draco. For the life of her, she couldn't stop it any more than she could single-handedly stop Tom from murdering people. She wanted to – God knows she did – but she just _couldn't._

Inhaling shakily, she managed to finally tear her gaze from his and looked above his head, towards the ceiling. "Don't," she said dully, her voice sounding forlorn to her ears. "Just . . . don't."

She vaguely wondered why she was saying what she didn't believe in the slightest. Maybe her better sense was taking over for her, and later she'd be grateful. But now she just felt her mind screaming at her. _What are you doing? You don't know what you're saying! Quick, tell him to stay . . ._

She'd asked him to stay once, though. And he hadn't. She did not plan on asking him again.

Finding the courage to look at him again, she only had a brief instant to look into his dark, troubled eyes before he jerked them away and pushed himself off her. He spun and walked, taking long strides, down the hall until he rounded a corner and disappeared.

Ginny released a loud breath, wondering why she was feeling so cold suddenly. Then she remembered she was leaning back against the window and lifted away from it, silently cursing her knees for still feeling so unstable. Then she smoothed the front of her skirt down, trying to slow the beating of her heart, and turned and walked in the opposite direction Draco had taken. 

_I need to think of something else besides him, she thought. Licking her lips absently, she found that they still tingled from the sensation of his against them. __Like how I'm going to get to Alexandria's, she added firmly, as though scolding herself for recalling him._

So the first thing she needed to do was find Harry. Since Draco accompanying her was _definitely out, he was her second choice. Well, actually, he'd been her first choice all along. But she had thought that maybe it would be better to have Draco around._

Now she thought differently. Now she was positive she wouldn't know how to act around him. After she'd angered him, then so much as shoved him away when he kissed her? Not to mention how awkward that conversation had been? There was no way she could sit calmly and casually beside him in a carriage – she'd be uncomfortable the entire time and blush furiously for no particular reason.

It was best if she just went with Harry, as she originally planned. 

Back up in her room, she found Maria and another maid making her bed. "Maria," she said, "can you please find Harry for me? Tell him that we're going to see Alexandria immediately. And have a carriage prepared for us."

She didn't like commanding people around like she was, partly because in reality they were all equal, and she knew she wouldn't like it if someone was ordering her about. But Maria gave her an understanding smile and hurried off to do what she requested.

The other maid continued to make the bed. Ginny sat in a chair, slumped backwards most unladylike, and waited for Maria to returned.

* * *

Draco couldn't get his mind off Ginny. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he paced, he just couldn't think of anything but her.

_What's wrong with me? he thought furiously. __This can't be happening. It really can't be._

The only thing, he knew, that was keeping him sane was the fact that once he was back in his own time, he'd go back into his normal life and totally forget about her. Every silly little fantasy and warm feeling he had about her would vanish like some bad dream – or better yet, just disappear altogether, and he'd never remember it again. 

Because if that didn't happen, if he continued to think constantly about Ginny Weasley in the time when she had six grown brothers, then there'd be hell to pay. He refused to let it happen. 

_As soon as things are normal again, he decided, __I'll go find myself a Veela girlfriend and forget all about plain, freckled, red-haired Ginny. _

But sitting there fuming about his feelings for her wasn't going to make them go away. He needed to do something that would keep his mind and hands busy. For the first time he actually wished he was there to oversee the construction of his new castle, and maybe even help a little. At least it would pass the time.

Maybe he'd go find Elle. She surely knew what to do for fun around dull, boring castles. She'd keep him active for a few hours.

He went to her room, not bothering to knock and barged in. She wasn't there, which shouldn't have been a surprise, because why would a bubbly, energetic seven-year-old want to lie around her bedroom all day?

Elle's room was perhaps the brightest he'd seen in the entire castle, because she'd had the drapes pulled to the side of the two large windows. Though it was an overcast, gray day out, it definitely lit the area considerably. 

Draco turned to leave when he heard the neigh of a horse outside one of the windows. He wondered if perhaps his father was back. If he was, then they'd probably be leaving for home soon, which Draco found himself looking forward to.

Crossing the room, he glanced out the window that overlooked the front of the castle. Near the main road, he saw a dark carriage. The color was unidentifiable from such a distance, but the splendor and sleekness of it was visible, and Draco wondered why the stagecoach he rode in wasn't as grand. Four horses, so white they blended in with the snow, were hitched to the front, and about a dozen knights stood guard around the door.

_Well, of course it's better looking than my transportation, Draco realized. __The king and queen are probably in there –_

That theory was quickly forgotten when one of the knights opened the door, and no one came out. Instead, someone went in. Draco couldn't see who it was, for he was too far away, but a moment later, a figure with bright red hair followed, ducking into the carriage. A moment later, the knight shut the stagecoach door. 

_That's Ginny, he recognized, scowling. Where did she think she was going? And who was with her?_

Draco watched, sulking, as a few knights clambered onto the outside of the coach, clearly holding on to some sort of handle and placing their feet on some sort of footrest. The driver whistled sharply, so loudly Draco heard it, and the horses began trotting on to the snow-covered road, heading towards the village.

_Where is__ she going? he wondered, before the answer suddenly popped in his mind. Of course. She was going to see Alexandria. She'd tried to ask him to join her, but he was a total idiot and kissed her, most likely giving her a reason to get as far from him as possible._

Still, as stupid as it made him feel, he also felt a little spark of vehemence. She _needed him to go with her. Did she really expect to get them to their own time herself? Of course not. Plus, if Alexandria had a way to transport them into the future, he needed to be present, didn't he? She'd told him she wouldn't leave without him. _

Frustrated now, he spun from the window with a snarl. Well, he was going to follow her. He wasn't going to let _her go ahead to their regular time all herself. _

There was no time to prepare a carriage for himself, so he'd just ride a horse. Of course, he'd only ridden a horse once, back when he was nine years old and his mother had insisted he go to a horseback riding camp. That was the summer his father had been away on an important mission with his fellow Death Eaters, and hadn't known about the camp until he returned. When he found out that his son had been sent to a Muggle camp to learn to ride a horse, he'd screamed at Narcissa, before hitting Draco several times for allowing himself to go. It had been one of the worst summers of Draco's life. And what had he gotten out of the camp? Nothing. He'd only ridden a horse once, and it had reared up and he'd fallen off, scraping his elbows something awful. So basically, it was pointless to have even gone, because he didn't even learn how to ride.

But that was ten years ago, and horses didn't seem as big as they had when he'd been nine. Not to mention he really didn't have any other choice. If he had to ride a horse to get back to his own time, then he'd do it. 

There was a stable girl, cleaning out a stall in the stables, when Draco strode in. Surprised to see a scrawny female bent over, scraping out horse manure, he'd watched her for a moment before clearing his throat to announce his presence.

She turned to him, and hurriedly propped the rake-like thing she'd been using against the stall wall and straightening. She looked about fifteen, with wiry light brown hair pulled back, and a brown dress that looked like a burlap bag. Her skin was streaked with dirt – or perhaps even dung – and she looked like she ate a pea for every meal she had. 

"Yes, Highness?" She sounded breathless, either from the excitement of being near him or from her labor.

"Can you get me a horse?" he asked quickly.

"Of course," she replied. "Which would you be requiring?"

"Whatever's the quickest to saddle up . . . or whatever," he told her.

"Well, their Majesties have a fine selection of fast and fine horses," the girl explained. "Nearly a dozen stallions, some of the fastest in England –"

Draco felt impatience start to settle in. The more they chatted, the farther away Ginny's carriage got. As it was, he would have a hard time catching up with them, if he could find them at all. "Just pick one you like," he muttered. He could care less about what breed it was. But then he added, "A fast one, preferably."

The girl dared a smile, looking thrilled that he'd told her to pick one that she enjoyed. She scampered over to a nearby stall – Draco noticed she didn't wear any shoes, and it was the middle of winter – and patted the nose of a black horse fondly. "This is Jack. He is one of the fastest. Used to be His Majesty's war horse, until His Majesty stopped taking part of the wars. He –"

"Fine, fine," Draco interrupted. "Just hurry, will you?"

"Yes, Highness," the girl said with a slight curtsy.

It took a good ten minutes before Jack was ready to be ridden. Mumbling a thanks to the girl, Draco led the horse to the other side of the barn where he could attempt to mount it away from anyone's eyes. He knew he was going to look ridiculous.

Fortunately, he managed to get up on the saddle without much trouble. Once he was, though, he glanced down at the ground uncertainly. Surely the horse couldn't be _that tall._

Scolding himself for feeling uneasy, he gripped the reins and dug his heels into Jack's flanks. He hoped that was the way to get the horse moving, and when Jack began to clop along, he found that he was right.

It took him a few minutes to get Jack to canter, but he managed to, and finally they were making speed. He'd forgotten how he hated to be on a horse. The bouncing was worse than inside a carriage, and a bit more painful. He found he had to stand slightly in the stirrups, and lift up off the saddle, to be entirely comfortable. After a while, his calf muscles began to hurt, because his legs were at an odd angle.

Forcing himself to ignore everything that was going wrong on the blasted horse, he concentrated instead on the direction Ginny's stagecoach had taken. There was the direct road that took them to the village, through about twenty minutes of forest. Hopefully, if he hurried, he could catch up with them while they were still in the woods, and not loose them in the hustle of the town.

_This is really__ uncomfortable, Draco thought with a deep frown, trying to bounce along with the horse. He was going to kill Ginny once he caught up with her. He could've been inside the carriage with her, but __no. He had to be riding a horse, a horse that seemed to land on the ground so heavily each time it lifted one of its hooves that it felt like a metal pole being rammed between Draco's legs._

The woods were eerily silent, and everything seemed white. The leaves of trees and shrubs were covered with a layer of snow, and there was at least six inches of it on the ground. Even Jack's clomping hooves were muffled. But Draco was concentrating too hard on keeping off the saddle to pay any attention to the serenity.

The road twisted and wound through the forest, so it was impossible to see the carriage. Draco prayed that he'd find them before they reached the village, so everyone wouldn't see him riding a horse like a stiff freak. Even Jack seemed to notice how rigid he was, and slowed slightly, as though trying to take softer steps.

"Come on, go faster," Draco hissed under his breath. The faster they went, the sooner they'd catch up with the stagecoach.

Because if they didn't get there soon, he would probably give up on Jack and just sprint on his own.

* * *

Ginny attempted several times to engage Harry in conversation. But he kept replying in one-word sentences, clearly not wanting to speak with her.

"Were you born as one of our servants?" she asked as politely as she could, even though it was an awkward question.

"Yes," he muttered, staring at the floor darkly.

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you ever get vacations?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Really." His tone was sarcastic.

"Well, I think you and your father deserve a vacation, then," she said with false brightness. "As soon as we get back, I'll talk to Richard and have him excuse you and your dad for a couple of weeks. I'll even talk my parents into paying for your trip. You can go anywhere you please. How's that?"

He fixed her with such a cold stare she could feel her eyes tear up. "Stupid," he snapped. "That's stupid. I don't want anything from your parents. Neither does my father. Just leave us alone, all right?"

"A – all right," she mumbled, looking down and blinking the tears away. What _could she say to have him trust her?_

With a shaky sigh, she decided to end attempting conversation. At least until she had a way for him to actually speak with her. She straightened, feeling the corset pinching her middle. If she didn't sit absolutely upright, she felt like the air was being squeezed from her. 

Suddenly, there came the loud whinnying of the horses, and the carriage jerked to a stop. Harry nearly tumbled from his seat, though somehow managed to stay put. Ginny, who was seated with her back to the front of the stagecoach, threw him an alarmed, wide-eyed look before rising to her feet. The cab was cramped, and she had to bend at the waist to be able to stand. She moved a little to stand between the two benches. The window on the door was covered with cloth, so she attempted to push it aside to see why they'd stopped. She found that it was sewn to the door, and let out a little humph of frustration.

"What's going on?" she asked, glancing at Harry.

Outside the carriage, she could hear the knights calling to one another in gruff, urgent voices. It frustrated her further that she couldn't even understand what they were saying. The clanking sound of their armor rubbing together as they moved, the noises their swords made as they were pulled into the air, was the only clue as to something was wrong. 

Her heart was beginning to pick up speed, and she pressed her hand over it, willing it to slow. _It's probably just a wild animal of some sort, she thought. __The knights will take care of it._

Reassured only slightly, she sat back down. Harry didn't look frightened – in fact, he looked a bit angry. His eyes were narrowed slightly, and other than that his face was stony and blank. 

After about another moment of shouting and the clash of metal, Ginny let out a groan of impatience and gave up on waiting around. Just as she reached for the door handle, one of the knights seemed to know what she was going to, and called out, "Stay in the carriage, Highness!"

Alarmed a bit more, she glanced at Harry again, whose narrowed eyes revealed that he was now a bit curious. "Do you know what's happening, Harry?" she asked him, though she knew he didn't.

He didn't even bother to answer. She didn't pause long for him to reply, either; she leaned forward and grabbed the cloth covering the window and started to tug. It made a ripping noise, but after that it was silent, not yielding to her yanks.

"Here," Harry said abruptly, as though remembering something. Ginny stopped to look at him as he reached under his tunic to the waist of his trousers. A moment later, he pulled his hand away, a knife gripped firmly in his fingers. "I shall cut it."

Ginny felt her entire body harden, frozen into a gigantic block of icy fear. Slowly she leaned back against her seat, her heart beating so madly she was afraid it would jump from her chest. Absently she pressed her hand over it, her eyes glued to the knife in Harry's hand.

He didn't notice her distress. Gripping the cloth in one hand, he tore through the top part of the cloth like it was mere tissue paper. A moment later, he repeated the process to the bottom part.

"Oh God," Ginny said under her breath. The carriage seemed to be spinning, whirling around in her head, and the sounds outside fading. Everything seemed to be in slow motion . . . everything except her heart.

The knife Harry held looked like an ordinary dagger. It had a plain black handles, and a silver blade about the length of Ginny's arm from elbow to wrist. But she would know that knife _anywhere. _

It was the very same knife Tom had used when he murdered his victims.

_Are you sure? she asked herself, forcing her lungs to take deep, even breaths. She was on the verge of gasping and crying hysterically, both from fear and from shock. __Are you sure it was Tom who murdered those people? Maybe it wasn't. Maybe you were so busy thinking – praying__ – that it was Tom, when it was really Harry all along. Maybe you wanted to see Tom as a murderer to badly you didn't realize it wasn't him. Maybe Tom is a nice person . . . and Harry's__ the one you're supposed to be afraid of._

But . . . but _Harry? It couldn't be. She refused to believe that in either world, normal or screwed up, that he would kill innocent people. He was The Boy Who Lived, not The Boy Who Took Lives. _

Yet there he was, tucking that dagger back away under his tunic. She watched, as though it were a dream and she was watching from a misty distance, as he leaned forward and peered out the now cleared window, instantly frowning.

"Gypsies," he commented vaguely. 

Was she absolutely positive that he had used the exact dagger? _There are many daggers with plain black hilts, she thought. _

"Highness, did you hear me? We are being attacked by gypsies . . ."

It was possible that it was a different knife altogether. But for some reason, she knew deep down inside her that it was the very same blade. _Harry's the killer, she thought, her blood turning cold at the realization. __It wasn't Tom. It was Harry._

She continued to stare at the place where he'd tucked the knife away. Closing her eyes for a moment, she remembered a flash from her dream. Tom – or perhaps not Tom, but a skinny black-haired boy – reached for the black hilt tucked away under his tunic, which seemed colorless in the darkness of the night. With is free hand he yanked out to grasp a handful of hair, belonging to some whimpering little girl . . .

She felt like she was going to be violently sick. Her throat closed up, and her eyes flew open, tears filling them instantly. _Oh God, she thought, clutching her stomach. __I'm in a carriage with a murderer. Harry murdered those people . . . he murdered . . . murdered . . ._

By now Harry was looking at her with confusion. "Highness – ?" he started.

"You killed them, didn't you?" she whispered, her voice ragged. She was surprised she could even talk.

"Killed who? The gypsies?" Now there was a tinkle of amusement in Harry's eyes – those green eyes she once thought were the most beautiful on earth. Now she just wanted to scratch them out, repay him just a little for the pain he'd caused all those families. 

"You know _exactly who I'm talking about, you little shit," she hissed, her hand scrambling for the handle. She felt the wall, not daring to take her gaze from Harry lest he make a move for his knife again. She had trouble finding it, her hand patted the inside door madly – oh, where __was that knob?_

The amusement vanished from Harry's face, and his eyes turned rock hard, his face a cold mask. "I do not, Highness. I do not know why I agreed to come with you; I should have known you would just insu –"

"I had dreams about it, you know," she whispered, swallowing hard, as her fingers wrapped gratefully around the handle. All she needed to do was give it a little yank, push out the door, jump to the ground, and sprint as fast as she could. If she needed to, she could rip most of her skirts off so it would be easier to run. For some reason, though, she delayed, and continued talking. "I thought it was Tom." She didn't add that she still _wished with all her being that it was Tom. A little part of her was screaming at her for actually considering that Harry would harm another person. _

_But he did, the wiser part told her sadly. __He has the knife. He has that very knife . . ._

"I do not know what you are speaking of, Highness," Harry told her coolly.

"Of course you do!" she shrieked so suddenly and with such force Harry started. "You murdered each and every one of those families! I _saw you do it! You have the __exact same knife –"_

"_Murder?" Harry's coldness then evaporated into disbelief, and he sat up straighter. "You think that __I murdered all those people?"_

"I don't think – I know!" she shouted. She closed her eyes briefly again, wondering why she was when he could, at any time, grab his dagger and stab at her. This time, when she thought of her dreams, she replaced Harry's features with Tom's. In her nightmares, his face had always been dark, shaded by blackness – and she realized it was probably her subconscious's way of hiding the real murderer from her. 

She was then overcome with so much fear she found it hard to breath. _I need to get out of here! she thought frantically. __I can't stay another minute. She felt as though she would burst into frenzied sobs at any second._

She tugged on the handle and leaped from her seat, using her shoulder to push the door. It swung open, and she stumbled out, just barely managing to remain on her feet as she landed in the snow. 

Blinded by tears, already too numb with absolute terror to feel the biting cold, she stumbled a few steps away from the carriage. Her many skirts, the gigantically annoying things, felt ten times heavier now that she was standing. She wouldn't have time to stop and rip them off. The only way to rid herself of them was to remove the bodices as well.

_Oh, forget clothes! her mind ordered. __I just need to get the hell out of here!_

Wiping at her eyes, – for they were clogging her vision so badly it was hard to see more than two feet ahead of her – she lifted her leg and prepared to run as fast as she possibly could, deep into the woods to loose Harry. Perhaps she'd find her way back to the castle, or find a peasant on a different road who would take her there. Either way, she just needed to get as far from the stagecoach as possible.

She'd taken only a total of three steps when her foot caught under something, and she sprawled flat onto her face into the snow. The ice stung her cheeks, which were already wet from tears, but she couldn't dwell on it. She had to get up and get away. Placing both palms on the ground, she hurriedly tucked her legs underneath her in a crouch, preparing to propel into a standing position. But she happened to look back momentarily to see what she'd tripped on in the first place.

A scream seemed to die in her mouth. Her heart began pounding so fiercely she could feel it in her throat. 

A knight, complete with silver armor, was sprawled on his back, unmoving and stiff. Blood was seeping from some wound beneath the breastplate, turning the snow a dark, dark red. Ginny had had her knees placed in the sticky blood only a moment ago and, glancing down, she saw her pale skirt was stained with it.

_This can't be happening, she thought, trying to calm herself. Though at that moment, she didn't feel as if she'd ever be calm again. __I'm back at the castle, and I'm having another nightmare. This is all one big dream. Harry simply can't__ be a murderer . . ._

"Highness!" Harry's voice called on cue. "Where are you going? Gypsies are attacking!"

Ginny tore her eyes from the unfortunate knight to glance back over at the carriage. Harry was beginning to step down from it, his frown clearly visible. 

Jerking her head to the side, she noticed another body and had to smother a cry. She fell backwards on her hands, absently feeling the snow on her skin, but not caring. Slumped on the ground, near the horses, was the driver. He was not moving, and red pooled on the road around him.

Looking around frantically, trembling like a leaf, she saw the other four knights, all on the ground, either on the muddy road or collapsed in the snow on the edge of the woods. _Did Harry just kill them all? she thought wildly, every rational way of thinking flying from her brain. __While I wasn't looking, is that what he did? Oh, God, I'm stuck here with him! _

Harry stepped to the edge of the road, scowling darkly. Ginny hurried backwards on the heels of her hands and her feet. She wasn't sure if she could stand; her knees felt far too weak. Yet even if she could get to her feet, there was no way she could possibly outrun him. He wasn't wearing fifty skirts and flimsy little girlie shoes like she was. Plus, if he really wanted to stop her, all he had to do was throw the knife at her retreating back, which would be sure to slow her down even more.

_I can't believe I'd ever live to see the day when I was absolutely terrified of Harry Potter, Ginny thought, trying to suppress a helpless whimper. __This world definitely isn't sane._

He wasn't attempting to come any closer, but still Ginny felt petrified on the spot. Just when she was building the courage to jump up and start running, movement distracted her, and she tore her eyes from Harry for a split second to glance up. Someone had climbed on top of the carriage behind him silently, and, without warning, jumped down just behind Harry. The intruder managed to grab him from behind by draping an arm across the front of Harry's chest, and the force of his fall caused the man to drop to the ground. He dragged Harry down with him; Harry only had time to release a grunt of surprise before he was suddenly stretched backwards on top of him.

For an instant, Ginny watched him struggle with the man, letting sudden relief seep into her bones. She could hardly believe her luck. She would be sure to pay her rescuer handsomely once she found out who he was. He'd saved her life and helped catch a criminal in the process.

_Oh thank God, she thought, allowing muscles to relax and lowering herself back into the snow. __I'll have Harry imprisoned the moment we get back to the castle – _

Unexpectedly, strong hands seized her by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet in the blink of an eye, silencing her thoughts. She didn't have the chance to glance over her shoulder to see who it was; immediately, a dirty hand clamped over her mouth, sealing off any startled questions or cries she might've let out. All at once terror struck her heart, and she wondered if it was possible for her to have a heart attack, or perhaps die of fright. Certainly it was a miracle in itself she hadn't wet herself yet.

She twisted furiously to get away from the man's hand over her mouth, but before she could achieve any sort of distance, he reached with his other hand and managed to grab both of her arms. She'd been trying to peel his fingers off her face, and somehow he'd gotten hold of both of her wrists with only one of his hands, pulling them back behind her and crunching them together forcefully. Releasing a small yelp of pain, she tried to squirm out of his grasp. It didn't seem to do any good. Whoever it was just pulled her against him tightly, digging his fingernails deep into her flesh.

Ginny suddenly remembered the man who had always been in the shadows while Tom – or, rather, Harry – had been killing. _Is this him? she thought. __I forgot all about his bloody sidekick! I should've known before jumping out of the carriage! Regretting her actions now, she realized she probably should've tried to unhook one of the horses from the front of the cab and ridden off on it. _

_Too late now. Still, she wouldn't let herself die like this. She refused to be killed by Harry Potter._

"Well, look at this," a raspy voice murmured in her ear. The man pulled on the hand he had over her mouth, tilting her head back onto his shoulder. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek, could feel the scratchy hair of his beard on her flesh. She tried to see his face, but he head her face pointed towards the sky, and it was impossible to get a clear view of him. All she could tell was he had dark hair, bad breath, and about a day's stubble on his face. "A real treasure," he continued to whisper. 

Then he turned his head away from her, removing his hand from her lips and moving his arm down around her neck, allowing her head to slide down so it was no longer pressed back against his shoulder. She seemed to have lost her voice, and couldn't scream out in the hope that someone would overhear and save her. Then, she remembered the man who had trapped Harry to the ground. Of course! He had to be there to save her . . . right?

"Look what we have here, men!" shouted her captor, her ear ringing from his loud voice. "The princess!"

Ginny's eyes were drawn to the spot where the man who was rescuing her had crashed to the ground with Harry. He was still there, on his feet now, with Harry in his clutches, struggling to keep him still. She wondered for a brief instant why he wasn't coming to save her, but then figured he couldn't – he had to keep a hold on Harry. _I can take care of this man behind me, she thought with a lot more courage than she felt. __If my rescuer can keep Harry in check, then I can be sure to get out of – _

Just then, the trees seemed to be moving. Shocked, Ginny whipped her head around, and felt the man's arm tighten around her neck as though to keep her still. A moment later she saw it wasn't the trees – it was _men who were moving__. All of them were dressed in brown tunics that looked as if they'd been worn nonstop for the past year._

Was it possible that Ginny had passed out from fright by now? Maybe she really _was having a horrible nightmare. The situation kept getting so much worse, it was almost ironic. But she was acutely aware that she was wide awake; for she knew that she'd never felt fear like this before. It invaded her body, heated her to the point where beads of sweat were rolling down her forehead, despite the cold day. Her joints seemed to freeze in place, and she no longer struggled with the man who held her. There were at least two dozen more, closing in around them in a sloppy circle, all who looked just as ratty as this man smelled. _

_Gypsies. Ginny suddenly remembered what Harry had been telling her as she'd tried to run. Of course, it made more sense – the gypsies had killed the knights and driver – Harry hadn't. It was the only logical explanation, one that she was glad to believe, for she cringed at the thought of Harry killing anyone. Besides, it was impossible for him to have killed them anyway, considering she'd been either with him or watching him the entire time._

She'd always imagined gypsies as tall, willowy ladies with curly black hair, their bodies clad with bright oranges, purples, and reds, dancing in the street for money. And she'd guessed that her perception was always wrong, because she read about them in fairy tale books. But she realized that there _were men gypsies, who moved in clans_

"Quick," the man said, his voice ragged and loud so close to her head. "Tie that idiot boy up. We shall leave him here for the king's forces to find, and he can tell everyone that we have _her." He jutted his elbow upwards, causing Ginny to raise her chin. She figured he was trying to gesture that she was the "her" he was speaking about. _

Numbly, she watched her rescuer drag Harry towards a thick tree, joined by four other gypsies. In an instant she realized – he wasn't there to rescue her! He was a gypsy as well! Oh, how stupid was she? If he had come to save her, he would've told her so. He would've shouted out that he would get her safely to the castle once he was through with Harry.

But he wasn't there to help her. He was there to raid the carriage, and now he was there to kidnap her as well.

Any hope of being saved seemed to soak from her mind, and she slackened in despair. She wasn't going to die, at least not by Harry's hand, and not yet. She was going to be kidnapped – held for ransom. Somehow that seemed even worse. Who knew what these men would do to her? Rape her, starve her, beat her? Possibly many more things her limited imagination couldn't comprehend.

But they would be certain to keep her alive, she knew, which wasn't very much of a comfort. In fact, it seemed to frighten her even more, which she hadn't thought achievable. She was beyond feeling – her entire body was numb and seemed to be incredibly stiff. She was perspiring, but her skin had goose pimples. Her short, fast breaths were coming out in little clouds. She was too frozen to even tremble. 

After a few loud curses of frustration, the five men stepped away from the tree. Harry was tied to it, the rope wrapped around him and the trunk several times, pinning his arms at his sides. He was jerking hard, trying to get free, but it was pointless. He was bound so tightly to the tree it almost looked as though he were glued to it. The only thing he could do was kick backwards and smack the bottom of the trunk with his heels, and that would get him nowhere.

_Kill him, Ginny said in her mind drowsily, feeling detached from her body. __Don't let him live. He'll just kill more people. _

A second later she found that she didn't want Harry killed, no matter what he had done. Just the image of him dying made her heart wrench. It was still next to impossible to believe that Harry had done those horrible murders. It was just too . . . _impossible._

_But he had the knife, she reminded herself. Her legs started to give away, and the man had to take his arm from her throat and grab her shoulder, trying to keep her upright. __He had the knife I saw in my dreams. It was__ him, as much as I don't want to believe it . . ._

"Here, take her," the man who held her said gruffly, shoving her towards a couple of gypsies nearby. 

She stumbled, nearly falling both from weak legs and her poofy skirts. But the two guys caught her, hauling her straight up, grasping her upper arms tightly and painfully. Their fingers were like ice, the cold seeping through her sleeves, and they felt like iron grips. 

The man who released her, who was most obviously the leader of the gypsies, strode over to Harry in two steps. Harry, who had been fighting violently to get out from the ropes, paused a moment to look at him. The leader snatched a handful of his hair and held his head up, so he'd be forced to look at him. 

Harry gave him a dark look through narrowed eyes and clenched his teeth, looking him straight in the eye. For a minute, Ginny thought he actually might spit on the leader. But he didn't.

"You tell the king we have his daughter," the man commanded, almost angrily. "Reckon you can handle that?"

Harry was silent for a long moment. Then he opened his mouth and said slowly, "Let her go."

The leader threw his head back and laughed. He roared like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Ginny flinched at the sound of it, wondering how he could find anything amusing in this entire situation. Then he patted Harry's head, as though he were a little child, and turned and walked back over to the rest of the gypsies standing to the side. Ginny, and the two holding her, stood apart from them.

She couldn't hear a word the leader was saying to his men, and it was bothering her immensely. She wasn't even trying to escape now; she felt far too fatigued, and the effort seemed too great. Once she was able to rest a little, and perhaps have some food – then she would attempt to get away.

The gypsy leader spoke to his men for what seemed like ages, but it couldn't have been more than three minutes. Finally, he spun to face Ginny – or, rather, those keeping a hold on her. "Tie her hands," he said quickly, tossing them some rope. Then he glanced at Ginny, and gave her a terrible smile, one that revealed his yellowing teeth. He was absolutely disgusting to look at – greasy hair, oily skin, revolting clothes; he clearly hadn't bathed in months. He most likely had fleas or some sort of head parasite. Ginny prayed that not all the gypsies were as nasty as he. "I shall allow you to walk without anyone touching you, Princess," he sneered, bowing slightly, "if you do not attempt to run away. But if you do, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you myself. Do you understand?"

Ginny somehow nodded, even though she'd thought she was too deadened to move. 

In minutes, the gypsies had unhitched the horses from the carriage and led them through the forest by ropes they'd tied around their necks. Ginny mistily thought that if the horses wanted to run away, then they could easily rear up and make the man holding their rope lose his grip and gallop away. But the horses walked along willingly, having no idea that what they were doing was wrong.

Ginny was forced to walk in the middle of the clan, directly behind the horses. As they began to travel into the woods, away from Harry and the carriage, she hoped the horses wouldn't go to the bathroom. They'd somehow manage to get it on her, she knew it.

Of course, she also knew it was silly to fear what the horses would do to her when she was now taken captive by a band of wild, unclean men. She was dreading what was to come, of what they might do to her. After a few moments of picturing it, she forced her mind to shut down, not wanting to think about it anymore.

Whatever was to happen, it would not be enjoyable.

* * *

A/N: Ahhh, my infamous cliffies.

And did Harry really kill all those people? Because I'm not saying if he _exactly is the murderer or not (hint hint). But if he did, who's his little sidekick? Hmm, you most likely won't find out until the end of the story, ha, cuz I'm cruel like that._

Thanks to:

Christine, firstly, for checking this over for me.

**Sea Chelle, ****hp_angel****, wmlaw, Amaress, SwedishGirl, kitty, polana, rita d., Moinee, sam i am, moon, Satans Little Princess, Phoebe1912, Amanda Mancini, psyche, ~meg~, Athena Lionfire16, Nato, mE, jburd, Lyn, Midnight, Priya-chan, Swim Angel, The Jade Princess, Me, BlueBz, Korinna Myorin, Arya, Dorthey Star, icedragon, Angie, JennyT, ~*Crystal Lily*~, anastacy, Chantico, Twink, Reine Dansante, Malfoy's MunchkinElf, ChildLikeTendencies, charismatic, Janie, FireballFlier, arcee, Julie B., Fernanda, Ta Dot, stargoddess, Nathalie, Bella, Triona Roscommon, chaos-frack, Kayla, Draco's Secret Lover, Daft Bugger, VoiletJersey, Mask Of Dawn, Cithara, wildmajik, TheGirlWhoLived, Evil*Fairy, kay, sOmEoNeSpEcIaL, Lily White, danabird, FireSprite, Ami, Book-Lover-210, DarkIllusion, chocagirl23, Elle B, Archer, audig, Gryffingirl, me, ShadowDragon, CP, *****, Lindelea, StrangerWithMyFace, Katma, Kat Riddle, and ****Ellie.**

I'm sorry I couldn't reply to each of you individually, but I'll be sure to next chapter. Thanks again for reviewing, it means the world to me to hear what you think!


	11. Knight in Shining Armor

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns it, I don't.

A/N: at the end, yo.

**Chapter Eleven**

**_Knight in Shinning Armor_**

The first thing Draco noticed about the carriage was that it wasn't moving, sitting in the middle of the snow-covered road.

The second thing was that it didn't have any horses.

He pulled on Jack's reins to bring him to a stop, and lowered himself down onto the saddle, his leg muscles relieved of the strain. For a minute, he sat frowning at the carriage, wondering why everyone seemed to have abandoned it.

The third thing he noticed were the bodies laying in red snow. 

His frown vanished and his eyes widened. He gripped a handful of Jack's mane and slid off his back to the ground. Draco realized his heart was pounding, and he knew it was because of the possibility that Ginny might be one of those bodies.

First, he glanced into the carriage, finding it empty, which wasn't much of a surprise. Then he circled around and inspected each person lying on the ground, letting out his breath when he saw none of them had bright red hair. In fact, the only person that wasn't clad in armor was the man that Draco suspected was the driver, who was near the seat on the outside front of the cab. 

So where were Ginny and that man who had gone with her?

"Your Highness!"

Draco spun around, startled, and scanned the area the voice had come from. To his shock, his eyes rested on Harry, who was tied to a tree. Slowly, his astonishment melted into amusement, and he slowly walked over to him.

"Potter?" he drawled, crossing his arms and sneering. "How the hell did you tie yourself to a tree?"

The rope had been wound around him so many times it covered from his shoulders down to his wrists. At Draco's remark, he looked a bit angry, but said with some composure, "I did not tie myself here. I was tied here by someone else."

"Where's Ginny? Is she tied to another tree somewhere else?"

"This is not a joking situation, Highness," Harry scolded, frowning furiously. "We were attacked by gypsies."

Draco stared blankly a minute before saying with narrowed eyes, "I'm not quite getting you."

Harry gawked, his expression exasperated and clearly hinting that he thought Draco was some sort of incompetent fool for not understanding. "_Gypsies, Highness!" he emphasized. "They attacked the carriage, killed the knights, and stole the horses."_

Draco raised his eyebrows and let out a loud breath through his lips. "So is Ginny tied to another tree or isn't she?" he asked.

Harry closed his eyes briefly, and muttered something under his breath, trying to keep his patience. "They took her, Highness," he said gradually, opening his eyelids and fixing his gaze on Draco. 

"The gypsies?"

"No, the horses," he snapped, looking irritated. Then he continued, "Yes, the gypsies, Highness!"

For a second, Draco wasn't sure whether to grin or become annoyed. Harry's tone and sarcastic retort was something that he would actually say in his own time. After a slight pause, he decided on neither expression, and instead demanded, "Why didn't you stop them?"

Harry glared at him from underneath his brows, a look that plainly said, _You're__ an absolute idiot, Draco Malfoy. "Forgive me, Highness," he said coldly, his voice dripping with mockery. "Next time I shall be sure to fight them all with my eyes closed." _

Draco sneered. "Well, did you even _try?"_

"Of course I _tried," Harry said sharply. "I did not want the princess kidnapped. Now that she is, though, the king will most likely send me to work in the fields on the farms outside the city for letting gypsies get her under my watch."_

"Right. Well, Potter, I could stand here and sympathize for you all day –"

"I bet you could," Harry interrupted viciously.

Draco pretended not to hear him. " – but I should probably be getting back to the castle. Have someone come and untie you and everything." He turned and started back to the road, but had only taken two steps when Harry called out to him.

"You can't untie me yourself?" 

Draco turned to face him again. _No, I don't have my wand, how else am I supposed to untie you? he wondered snidely, but said out loud, "I can, but what's the fun in that? I'd rather have you stand here a while." Harry glowered at him so venomously that he had to laugh. "I'm just kidding, Potter," he said, grinning. He rubbed his hands together to get warmth into them. "I can't untie you myself, sorry."_

"Well, aren't you going to try to save Her Highness?"

"I wasn't planning on it," Draco said smoothly, his smile fading. "I know you _must think I'm some sort of warrior, but in all honesty, I'm not." __At least not with a sword, he added in his mind. If he had his wand, he could beat any Muggle without breaking a sweat. _

"I have never thought you a warrior, Highness," Harry told him frigidly, tossing his head to get the long strands of dark hair from his eyes. "I just assumed you would try to save her."

Draco looked at him expressionlessly. He wasn't quite sure the reason his heart was thumping oddly, or why he felt so uncomfortable and insecure the second he'd seen the carriage deserted, but he knew it had to do _something with Ginny. He refused to acknowledge the fact that he might be __worried about her. He was scarcely worried about anything, much less people. And very much less people like Ginny Weasely. _

"Why?" he asked Harry flatly. 

"You know something, Highness, I really do not care what you do," he replied, squirming a little under the ropes. "I cannot feel anything below my neck anymore, and it is extremely unpleasant, so I actually would not mind if you went straight back to the castle."

Draco frowned at him, now uncertain of what to do. It would make sense to just turn and ride Jack back to get more help, wouldn't it? The king's men would track the gypsies down easier and return Ginny safe and sound. 

But it would also make sense to somehow untie Harry himself, send him back to the palace, then go off and find the gypsies himself, while they were still close by. Even though he was just one man, who had no experience with a sword or any sort of fighting tactics that didn't have use of fists and a wand – and he doubted any gypsy would bother with fists or have a wand, they'd more likely run him through with a knife – he could stop them from doing anything horrendous to Ginny.  Watch out for her, so to speak. 

"Hold on," Draco told Harry, still frowning in thought.

He turned and crunched back on to the road, approaching the nearest knight dead in the snow. This man had clearly been able to pull out his sword before he'd been slain, for it was tossed only a few feet away from his body. Draco stepped over him carefully and picked up the sword, the hilt freezing cold in his bare fingers. Suppressing a shudder, he returned to Harry and the tree.

"I'll cut you loose," he said, "then you run as fast as you can back to the castle."

"And you're going after Her Highness?"

"No, I was planning on staying here to make sure no one steals the bodies," Draco replied solemnly. He didn't pause to see Harry's reaction, and stepped around to the back of the tree, so that when he cut through the ropes he didn't accidentally slice Harry's arm off. 

It wasn't easy. The sword wasn't anything like a knife, for it was much longer. When he reached out to hold a bit of rope steady, his other hand was pushed nearly back to his shoulder, because the blade was so long and the hilt was so far back on it. Still, Harry didn't make any noise of impatience, or any sort of indication he thought Draco dumb for taking so long. It took almost five minutes just to slice through one strand of rope, and then Draco had to unravel it, walking several times around the trunk, feeling like an idiot who was just walking in circles. 

Finally, Harry was able to stumble away from the tree, took a few steps, and dropped into the snow. Draco made no move to help him, but Harry explained briefly, "My legs are numb. The feeling should return in a few moments." Draco watched as he massaged his arms, trying to get the blood flowing in them, before Harry shot him an irritated look. "You know," he said sourly, "every second you stand there, it becomes harder to follow the gypsies. It looks as if it might snow again; follow their tracks while it's still fresh."

Draco scowled, feeling a bit foolish at just standing there, and he said, "Hurry and get back to the castle." He spun and dropped the sword back by the knight he'd borrowed it from before treading back to his horse Jack, who was nuzzling at the snow to try and find some grass. 

This time, Draco managed to get up on the saddle with barely any struggle, and forced himself to endure the painful bouncing as he steered Jack by Harry. As he passed him, Harry was just getting to his feet. Draco guessed he'd get back to the castle in about forty minutes, and hopefully it would take half as much time for help to come after him.

The disturbed and turned up snow in the woods was an obvious path that the gypsies had taken. Draco wasn't sure how much of a head start they had, but it had to be a good ten minutes. He realized he didn't even know if they were walking or on horses. For all he knew they could be miles away by now, if they were on horseback. Which – unfortunately – was likely, for they'd stolen the carriage horses.

Draco managed to get Jack into fast gallop, deciding that if he had any chance of catching up to them soon, he would have to go quickly. After only a few seconds, he began to regret his decision of going after Ginny himself.

Why was he, anyway? He didn't need to. He was sure that the gypsies wouldn't kill her, at least not if they hoped to profit from having her kidnapped and alive. But then, there was a chance they didn't even know she was the princess. He realized he didn't know much about the situation, that he should've asked more of Harry. It was too late now, though. He'd have to figure it out on his own.

Another thought struck him. Why hadn't he brought the sword? Cursing himself, he made Jack stop, and glanced back over his shoulder. He couldn't see the carriage anymore – it was clearly behind many trees. He couldn't go back now. Besides, he didn't know how to _use the sword. So it wasn't a total loss._

_Actually, it is, he told himself with a frown, pressing his heels into Jack's flanks to make him run again. __Even if I don't know how to fight, I could try and scare them and act__ like I know what I'm doing._

Once again, it was too late. He should've thought a little before he'd jumped on his horse and ridden off. 

Even without the sword, though, the first step was to catch up with them.  

Luckily for Draco, Jack didn't need much directing. The horse seemed to know that they were following a path – or perhaps he could just smell the other horses. Either way, Draco was able to concentrate more on staying comfortable than steering him around. 

After nearly ten minutes, Draco's face was stinging with the cold, and his fingers were red and almost numb. He hadn't thought to grab a pair of gloves before he left. But then, he didn't know he was going to have to go running through the forest for five hours on a horse.

Five more minutes trickled by, and he noticed the sky was darkening. Glancing up through the skeleton-like branches, he prayed that it didn't mean it was going to snow. Yet if it wasn't snow, it would be night approaching. It would get colder at night. He didn't know which he preferred, but either way, he was becoming more frustrated. 

He didn't even _have a sword, because he hadn't been thinking and left it behind, and if he did, he wouldn't know how to use it. The only things he had were cold hands and a horse. Against gypsy men who probably battled against each other for entertainment, it would get him nowhere. He'd be slaughtered instantly, and he knew it. _

_What is wrong__ with me? he wondered. What possibly made him think that he could do this by himself? He should've ridden back to the castle with Harry to get the king's army. Or at the very least been bright enough to bring that damn sword. __Is it because I hope to impress Ginny? Is that why I'm riding through the freezing woods to fight rabid men? Because I hope to show her how brave and fearless I am?_

If that _was the reason, then he was definitely a fool. He remembered back during Hogwarts, he would always sneer down at all the pathetic Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and Gryffindor and occasional Slytherin boy who went out of his way to impress some girl by buying her the most expensive bouquet of talking pink roses that Hogsmeade had to offer. Of course, girls were almost always wooed by the way the flowers spoke so tenderly and sweetly, either singing love songs in French or reciting poems of romance in Spanish. They never understood a word of it, but they always squealed and kissed the boy who had given it to them, and it was always disgustingly revolting._

But buying roses for a girl . . . that was normal. Riding on a horse to risk one's life for a girl whom one hated was _not normal. Not in the least. _

_I hate her, he thought. __I really do. Then why, deep down, did he know that he had never kissed any girl he loathed before the way he kissed Ginny that morning? __Yeah, Malfoy, what was that kiss about anyway? he asked himself. God, he'd nearly shagged her right then in there, and she'd told him to stop. _

It had been an entirely embarrassing situation altogether. Firstly for actually snogging her, and secondly because she actually told him she didn't want it.__

She obviously wanted him. But she also obviously didn't _want to want him. He realized they both basically felt the same about each other, which made him scowl for reasons he didn't know. Yet he also knew that she wanted him in a sense that they would actually have a relationship. He just wanted her for sex. _

Or at least, that's what he tried to tell himself. Being a virgin, he didn't really know. But as he'd also told himself before, his feelings were sure to vanish the minute he was back in Malfoy Manor. Whatever screw had gotten loose inside his head now and was making him lust for Ginny would tighten itself back in place once everything was normal again.

A moment later, Draco thought he heard a shout from up ahead. He couldn't be certain, for all the noise Jack was making while running, so he tugged on the reins to bring him to a halt. Jack snorted, tossed his head, and then stood still, breathing hard from the exercise. 

Draco lowered himself down comfortably on the saddle and listened carefully. It was definitely getting darker – night had to be approaching. The gray clouds seemed to hang low over the treetops, giving the forest a misty, ghost-like feeling. He shivered despite himself, scanning the area in front of him. 

The trees were too thickly placed together for him to see very far, but he could hear movement. The sound of feet – many light, human feet – _so they're not on horseback, he thought, relieved. As he listened, there was also the occasional unintelligible shout and a sharp hoot of laughter. __That's the sound of a bunch of men, all right. _

Judging from the distance of the sound, Draco guessed they were about three minutes ahead, if he rode Jack in a sprint. But he didn't want to announce his arrival – the only weapon he had was the element of surprise – and Jack made a lot of noise. If these gypsies were smart, they'd know to hide when they heard a horse approaching, for it was most likely someone coming after them. Draco would need to ride a little ways to get closer to them, then leave Jack behind and walk on foot.

Satisfied with what he needed to do for the time being, he put Jack into a slow canter; his ears perked up so he would know when he got close enough. 

After a couple of minutes, he saw a few of the gypsies lagging behind through the trees. He pulled Jack to a stop and hurriedly climbed down off him. Jack immediately put his nose down to the snow and searched for some grass. Draco stared down at him for a minute, wondering if he should tie him up. He decided on leaving him free; he was sure to be occupied for hours looking for grass to eat. Draco patted him on the flank, silently thanking him for not tossing him off, and then turned and started to walk quickly after the noise of the gypsies.

Draco saw that they all traveled as one big group. A few of them, the ones in the back, seemed drunk, for they laughed obnoxiously and slapped one another's shoulders, and they didn't seem as though they could balance themselves. However, he did not see Ginny. His guess was she was somewhere up ahead.

First, before he even attempted to rescue her, he'd need to catch sight of her. The only way to do that was not to follow along behind, but to go up alongside the group. It was a huge risk, though, because it would make him easier to spot. He needed to be where he could still see them, but on brief glance they could not see him. 

Bent at the waist, feeling as though he should stay low, he sped up and veered to the left. Certain that he was a good distance to the side of the group, he paused behind a thick tree, and straightened. Glancing around the trunk, he saw them through the foliage of trees walking by, still talking loudly and sounding as if they were all having a good time. And he also still did not see Ginny.

Cursing under his breath, he hurried on ahead, finding another big tree that he ducked behind. This time, he spotted Ginny's wild red hair, noting that she was near the front of the group. She was walking behind four white horses without anyone touching her to keep her from escaping, but there were several gypsies who were only an arm's length away. 

All right, he found her. So what should he do now? 

Frowning, he continued to dash from tree to tree so that he kept Ginny in sight. He felt slightly stupid, but as long as no one saw him, then it wasn't too bad. Plus he had more things to worry about. Like how he was going to take on dozens of grown men without any weapons whatsoever.

_A diversion, he thought, watching as Ginny got farther and farther ahead before leaving the safety of the tree trunk and finding another one. __Diversions always work. _

But how could he make a _simple diversion, much less make one big enough to distract the entire gypsy group? Not to mention that if they went running to check it out, some of them would stay behind to guard Ginny. Fighting __one gypsy would be hard enough, because he'd probably have time to shout out for the others. _

So what could he do? If not a diversion, then what? Now he was beginning to regret leaving Jack behind. _A horse might've actually come in handy, he told himself, frowning. But of course, he hadn't been thinking too brightly, and now it was too late._

Suddenly, a man at the front of the pack yelled out. The entire troop stopped, the drunken men towards the back trying to silence their laughter. Draco pressed himself against the tree trunk, certain no body part was visible to them, and praying they hadn't paused because they'd spotted him.

"Take a rest, gentlemen!" someone announced. "We have at least until nightfall before the king will start to look for the princess. So I suggest you take advantage of this opportunity, for we will be traveling all night!"

Several of them grumbled, and one hiccupped so loudly Draco could almost pinpoint the exact man it had come from. But he didn't dare look out from behind his tree, knowing it would be easier for them to see or hear him now that they weren't trudging along. He heard the sound of their heavy footfalls as they stepped through the snow, their loud conversations resuming. 

He wondered for a brief instant if he should run farther away from them. Now that they were resting, they would most likely spread out, and a few might venture as far as the tree he was hidden behind. But he didn't risk it; they would most likely hear and spot him moving. So he held his breath and listened acutely for the sound of one approaching. 

Nearly ten minutes passed, and he heard nothing except their loud, gruff voices and heavy laughs. Darkness was rapidly approaching by now – Draco knew there had to be a half hour left of daylight. He guessed that Harry had to be nearing the castle already, so hopefully help would be on its way soon. 

Then he thought of something. If help was coming, then why did he feel as if he had to save Ginny single handedly? He could just watch from a distance and make sure they didn't do anything terrible to her. So far, he hadn't heard a peep from her – but then, he couldn't hear much over the din the gypsies were making. Still, he knew she wasn't screaming, so as long as she wasn't in pain or nearly dying, then he didn't need to do a thing.

He finally got the courage to look around the tree trunk. The gypsies had all broken off into groups of four or five, sitting on either a large log or a big rock in circles, most in the process of building small fires on flat rocks, up away from the snow. Draco wondered briefly where they had found those things to sit on, for he very strongly doubted they carried boulders around with them, but then he guessed that maybe they'd looked around while he'd been hiding behind the tree and found them. But it didn't matter. Now he needed to find Ginny again.

Draco searched, and spotted her sitting near a group not far from him. Well, at least he could keep an eye on her. 

He suppressed a groan and twisted back behind the tree. Lowering his head, he rubbed his face in his hands. There really wasn't anything he could do without getting himself killed besides watch her. He'd just have to wait for the king and his forces to arrive before he attempted to save her.

He wondered why he felt so fidgety and annoyed at the thought of waiting

* * *

"I'm going to untie you, girl," said the leader man, whom Ginny had learned was addressed as Alec. "But if you try to run away, I will personally slit your throat. Understand?"

Ginny nodded. She really didn't even care anymore. She was no longer frightened senseless – or perhaps she was, because she did feel rather numb. It didn't even hurt much when Alec cut through the ropes on her wrist and nicked the skin along the lower part of her right thumb, causing it to bleed. By now she was rather angry at these stupid gypsy men, angry that they thought they could keep her as a means of money from the king. _As if he'd pay anything for me, she thought dryly. __He'll probably write them a letter thanking them for getting rid of me, because I know that he and "Mother" can't stand me._

"Sit," Alec ordered, jerking her from her bitter thoughts and pointing down at the ground. Ginny threw him an annoyed glance, only to receive a leering grin in return. "Unused to sitting in snow, _Your Highness?" His grin faded. "Get used to it, wench. If I have my way you shall be with us for a very long time."_

"You _won't get your way," mumbled Ginny, even though she half believed he might, and dropped into the snow. For once she was glad she wore many skirts, because it would take a while for the snow to melt and leak through all her layers. Alec appeared not to have heard her comment – or if he did, he ignored it._

Wrapping the heel of her hand at the bottom of her thumb in her skirt, more frustrated than pained by the bleeding, she looked up and scowled. Beside her, Alec had sat down on a long log that kept him, and two other gypsies, up out of the snow. There were several other men sitting in the same circle, all of them listening to one who was telling them of a bet he'd lost once. Another gypsy was attempting to get a fire in the middle started, even though the wood he was using was damp. 

_What an idiot, she thought, narrowing her eyes at him. __I've been kidnapped by a bunch of smelly, uneducated fools._

A few minutes passed, and Ginny began feeling the cold through her skirts. Trying to ignore it, she peeled the cloth away from her cut and glanced down at it. It was still bleeding, and by now it had started to throb. And hurt. It wasn't that deep, but Alec had managed to slice a good area of skin away, about the size of her thumbnail. 

The gypsies in her circle suddenly got louder, and she glanced up, wondering what the excitement was about, and saw that the man had finally gotten the fire started. Of course, he'd only gotten it started because he'd thrown the wet logs away and snapped dry twigs right off the trees, but at least it was a fire. It took only a few moments for the heat to reach her, though her rear end was becoming number and number the longer she sat in the snow.

She glanced around at other campfires. Many were just like the one she was in – all of them were swearing, laughing, cheering, and shouting. Every gypsy she had seen so far had beards and mustaches, with long greasy hair, and crooked, yellow teeth. She also could see deep scars on most of them, most likely from small pox or bad cases of acne. They were definitely not pleasant to look at . . . or smell.

Ginny looked back at her hand. Yes, it was certainly starting to hurt now. Wincing, she pressed her skirt back against it, before wrapping her good fingers around her wrist. Her dad had once told her that to stop the bleeding of something on her hand, she had to cut off the circulation of blood. The easiest place to grasp was her wrist, and she squeezed it hard, releasing it every now and then so the other parts of her hand would still get circulation.

After about five minutes of doing this, she moved the skirt away from it and inspected it again. It was still bleeding, but she noticed it wasn't as bad as before –

Abruptly, a rough, filthy hand grabbed her wrist, just where she had been holding it a minute before. With a gasp, she looked up to see Alec's sneering face, before he yanked her to her feet. 

"Ouch!" she cried, trying to keep her balance. "What the _hell are you doing –?"_

Peering down at her cut hand, he interrupted, "What happened, girl? Did you cut yourself?" His voice was like silk laced with blades – smooth but wicked.

Furious, she attempted to yank her hand back, but he kept a good grip on it. The other gypsies around the fire seemed amused by her struggle, and sniggered. Trying to ignore them, she fired back, "No, _I didn't cut myself. You did, you slimy son of a bitch."_

He didn't appear to have heard her. Instead, his lips curled into a disgusting smile. "I can fix it for you, girl." And with that, he unexpectedly sat back down on the log, and, still holding her wrist, pulled her down with him. With a startled cry she lost her balance and dropped into his lap, stomach first. She felt his arm slide around her back as he tried to turn her over. She slapped at his thigh with her free hand, swearing at him loudly, which only caused the other gypsies to laugh. She noticed that the rest of the camp had ceased their conversations, and she knew they were all probably watching them and enjoying it.

Alec managed to spin her over, so she was lying on her back in his lap. Her cheeks burning both from anger and embarrassment at the way she was sprawled over him, she reached up and tried to unwrap his fingers from her wrist. "Let go of _me!" she shrieked at him, and received only noisy laughter in reply. _

Her left hand seemed not to bother him, for he did not attempt to grab it. Instead, he tugged her into a sitting position by the hold he had on her right wrist, smiling smugly and revealing his awful teeth, before bringing his lips down to the base of her neck.

The feel of it gave her unpleasant chills, striking ice through her heart. Using her free hand she placed her palm on his chest, trying to push him away, and tilted her head to the side so he wouldn't have easy access to her throat. He completely ignored her attempts at shoving him away and kissed her jaw, then her cheek. Then, without warning, he reached up and snatched her face with his thumb pressed against one cheek and the rest of his fingers on the other. He pulled her towards him and kissed her full on the lips.

The entire gypsy group erupted in loud cheers and catcalls.

Absolutely revolted, Ginny yanked hard to free her hand, and since he wasn't trying to hold on to her any longer, she heaved her arm from his grasp. She placed her left hand on his face and shoved him away, sucking the fresh air when his mouth parted from hers.

"What's the matter, girl? Never been kissed by a real –" he began to ask with a smirk. But she interrupted him by swinging her right palm on his cheek, smacking him with all the strength she could muster. 

The slapping noise seemed to echo through the forest, and the entire camp was silent. Alec's head jerked to the side, and he did not move, blinking. Ginny stared at him for a moment, furious and feeling the need to vomit, and noticed with a touch of satisfaction that she'd not only made a bright red mark on his face, but she'd also left blood from her wound. 

"Don't you _ever touch me again," she hissed, and jumped to her feet. She wasn't going to stay with them for another moment – she would rather risk her life than remain with them and be humiliated. _

But Ginny had only taken three steps when she heard him let out a groan of anger. She glanced back just in time to see him lunge after her, seizing a handful of her skirt and jerking it. The material ripped, but he'd managed to slow her down. She caught a look of utter fury on his face before he rammed his body into hers, knocking her down to the ground and landing heavily on top of her.

She began to panic now, realizing that she should have controlled herself and not slapped him. Now he was livid, and might even kill her in his rage. _Ginny, why can't you just learn to control that damn Weasley temper? she screamed at herself._

"Bad move, girl," muttered Alec, his weight pressed against her body and keeping her pinned beneath him. She writhed and struggled, but she knew he was almost twice her size, and there was no way she could get out from underneath him. She just managed to put her palms on his shoulders and try to push him off before he grabbed both of them, crunching the knuckles together, and restrained them above her head in the cold snow with only one hand. 

She kicked her feet, the only part of her that could move. Panic was slowly melting into terror once again. She screamed, "Get off me! Get your bloody hands _off me! You can't –"_

"You're far too spoiled, princess," he cut in calmly, resuming his silky tone again. "Too soft –"

"I don't _care! Let me up, __right now!" Her voice was shrill and shrieky, and she sounded like she was hysterical. __Which I probably am, she thought dimly, watching as Alec once again brought his face to hers and kissed her. She sputtered against him, trying to turn her head and get out from underneath his lips. But with each turn he followed her. _

_Oh, God, I can't breathe, she thought, twisting her legs madly. She tugged on her arms, trying to get them loose. He was only holding her by one hand, after all. And she __had to get free. She was almost ready to throw up. The horrible stench of him was filling her nostrils, and he tasted sour – like some magical medicine her mother had always given her when she was younger for a sore throat, the one that always made her gag after she swallowed it. Her head was ringing with the laughter and shouts of the other gypsies, and she was beginning to feel sick._

With one wrench of strength, she felt her one of her hands – the unwounded left one – slip through Alec's grasp. Without hesitating she pressed it against his forehead, lifting his head up. Startled, he opened his eyes and glanced at her as she removed the heel of her hand from his forehead. In another beat she reached up and dug her nails into his right cheek, dragging her fingers across as quickly as she could.

Alec let out a howl of pain, and she watched as four red streaks appeared in his flesh. Now she knew this could go either of two ways – the first way was she could use the distraction to get up and run away. The second way was he could become even angrier and wring her neck.

Fortunately, the first option appeared to be happening. His hold on her right hand loosened, and she managed to get it out. _Now, she thought, breathlessly__, I just need to get his body off mine._

Easier said than done. The man weighed about twice as much as she did. She placed both of her hands on his face, trying to lift him off her. It didn't work, for after a moment his fingers wrapped around her throat.

So the second option also happened.

She gagged a moment, before he completely managed to squeeze her windpipe closed. She dropped her left hand from his face, reached out blindly into the snow for something she could use as a weapon. A stick, perhaps, that she could stab in his eye. But she felt nothing but ice cold, smooth snow that was so freezing it seemed to burn her skin.

Her lungs were already beginning to beg for air, and Alec was only squeezing tighter in his anger. She stared up at his face, which was a mask of wrath and hatred, making him look ten times uglier than before. 

_Please, I need to do something! she thought frantically, though to whom, she didn't know. She began digging her fingers into the snow. There were a few inches of it, she found, before her fingertips scraped the ground. But wait – that wasn't the ground. Her hand dug further, and she found that what she thought had been soil was actually a round, jutting object – __a rock! she realized. If she could've, she would've screamed for joy._

She wrapped her fingers around it – it was about half the size of a Bludger, though it was certainly big enough to help her – and pulled it from the snow. She reached her arm as far back as it would go. Alec was too busy glaring at her and trying to strangle the life from her to notice. Even though several gypsies tried to cry out a warning, it was too late. Ginny swung the rock right into his head, just at his temple. 

It made an ill-sounding cracking noise, and Alec's grip slackened. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, his blood dripping down onto Ginny's dress. Then, with a slight moan, he dropped his face heavily by Ginny's cheek, his chin poking into her shoulder. She blinked, removing his hands from her neck, and then sucked in air. It was difficult, for he was still lying on her, but it was oxygen. And it was wonderful.

She'd actually saved herself. She'd knocked him out – or perhaps even killed him. Even though she was dismayed at the thought of killing another person, she knew that if she hadn't, then she would be dead herself. 

Now, though, she had the entire gypsy group to face. They wouldn't be too happy now that she seriously injured their leader. So maybe she wasn't too safe yet.

Frantically, she shoved Alec off her, rolling him to the side. She sat up, wiping his blood off her cheek and neck, and glanced at the camp. They were all staring at her, some appalled, some looking a bit infuriated. None of them moved, and for a moment, everything seemed incredibly quiet.

_Just get up, Ginny instructed herself. __Stand up slowly, then turn and run._

She started to rise, but her movement seemed to trigger them. One man let out a cry, and a moment later the total group was shouting and yelling at her. And they weren't words of gratitude.

"Oh . . ." she muttered, feeling weak with fright, and scrambled the rest of the way up. As she spun around, preparing to run deep into the woods and try and loose them, they were jumping to their feet, preparing to attack after her.

She had only stumbled a short distance into the forest before she looked ahead of her and saw someone standing in her path. For a brief instant, her heart plunged deep into her stomach in dread, because she thought it was another gypsy. But it was only for an instant, for it was no dark, filthy man.

It was Draco.

"What the hell are _you doing here?" she screamed at him, more from being completely and utterly stunned than anything else. What __was he doing there? Where had he come from? He must've been hidden in the trees nearby, for when she'd looked but a minute ago her way had been clear._

She threw a glance over her shoulder and saw the gypsies were about two seconds from grabbing her. Immediately she didn't care why Draco was there – he just was, and that was good enough for her.

"What does it _look like I'm doing here, Weasley?" he retorted. "Saving your goddamn life, that's what."_

Well, that also worked for her. She dashed behind him, instantly feeling a sense of safety and relief flood her weary body. At least she wouldn't have to fight alone anymore. Once she was a few feet in back of him, she glanced around at the gypsies, who had all stopped short, glaring at Draco. They were all in a mob, holding swords or large daggers. The expressions on their faces looked downright evil.

"All right, gentlemen," Draco said calmly, and Ginny could hear the smirk in his tone. "You'll have to get by me first. The prince. Of Wales. Try it; I dare you."

The gypsies paused. But only for the blink of an eye. A second later, they rushed forward like a monstrous wave. Draco just barely had the time and wits to whirl around and hurry to Ginny's side. "Fuck, I didn't think they'd actually come," he swore, not even glancing at her. 

_Of course they'd come, she thought, biting back her angry reply. __You're just one person, idiot. As if you'd stop them –_

Her mind went blank as Draco, in one swift movement, bent down and wrapped his arms around her waist. Without warning, he hoisted her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing more than a bag full of quills.

For a moment she was shocked into disbelief, pressing her hands firmly on his back to keep from flipping off. Then he began running, and she gazed up and saw the gypsies racing after them, and was jolted back into her senses.

"Draco? What are you doing?" she shrieked at him, trying to look over her shoulder and see his face. "I have legs. I can run!"

"Not with all the crap you're wearing," he said, already out of breath. "So just shut up, will you?"

She strangled a cry and returned her eyes to the gypsies. They were advancing, for Draco wasn't moving all that fast. The only reason the first few hadn't reached them yet was because of all the trees. It was a miracle already that Draco himself could maneuver all the shrubbery carrying something as heavy as she. 

_He's so stupid! she thought. __What the hell does he think he's doing? Being a hero?_

A moment later, those contemplations were pushed from her mind. She felt her throat close up as several of the gypsies broke off from the rest of the group and sprinted on ahead, circling around her and Draco. _They're going to cut us off, she realized, feeling as though her bones had turned to stiff rock. _

"Draco," she whispered, perhaps a little too softly. When he didn't reply, she hissed louder, "Draco!"

"What?" He was irritated, and breathing hard. 

"They're surrounding us," she told him, attempting to talk around the lump in her throat. Her voice was quiet and raspy.

"What do you expect me to –" he started through gritted teeth, when suddenly, their luck worsened tremendously. 

Draco's foot caught under something, and he tripped forward onto the ground.

Ginny let out an _oof__! when she hit the ground, her upper body swinging off Draco's shoulder and hitting the snow. Her head whacked down hard, and she bit her tongue. An iron taste filled her mouth, which she recognized immediately as blood. She felt Draco's arm stretched over her stomach. Dazedly, she lifted her head and saw him on his own stomach, propped up by one elbow, his eyes darkly fixed on the gypsies, as they began to circle around them. _

Ginny felt fear trickle through her veins, even more chilling than the snow beneath her. She momentarily pictured of one of those swords being thrust into her. _To be stabbed, she thought distantly. __It must be the worst way to die . . ._

Hazily, she felt Draco shift beside her. Blinking, finding that she was nearly blinded by tears that had appeared from nowhere, she tried to clear her vision and see what he was doing more properly. He moved up and leaned over her, his chest inches from her face. His right arm slid beneath her head, cushioning her from the snow. He rested his forehead on the top of her head, and she could hear his ragged breathing, so close to her ear. It took a moment to dawn on her, but when it did, she felt a dull flash of amazement that peaked through her fear and terror. 

He was _protecting her. Shielding her from the waist up with his body. A wave of warmth surged through her, and for a split second, she experienced calmness. Even though she still knew that he wasn't much of a defense, for all one had to do was stab him and roll him off her, the gesture of it was something so unexpected, so __humanly, that she felt her muscles relax – if only for a brief instant._

When she once again felt the icy snow pressed against her flesh, as if reminding her that she most certainly was _not safe, she tensed up at once. The noise of what sounded like millions of heavy footsteps filled her mind, and she peeked underneath Draco's arm. A pair of shoes, so close she could reach out and brush them with her fingertips, stood directly parallel with her head. Moving her eyes, she found that that there were more feet, though she couldn't see above the knees. Yet it was enough. Squeezing her eyes shut, her hot tears slipping silently down her cheeks, she turned her face back towards Draco chest and breathed in deeply, trying to soothe her nerves._

_Just let this be over quickly, she prayed. _

"It seems as though there will be no royalty left to rule," said a scratchy, rough voice that sounded right above Draco, "for I am about to kill the only royal heirs."

There came the noise of dry chuckling from the others. Ginny reached and gripped the edges of Draco's cloak, as if digging her fingers into something would help ease her fear. It didn't.

She heard Draco inhale through clenched teeth, and his entire body went rigid. They both heard the slight clanging metal – the distinctive sound of one moving a sword. Ginny held her breath, knowing very well that if she didn't she would start sobbing. 

Time seemed to stop for what seemed like a lifetime, but looking back, Ginny guessed it was probably all of two seconds. Then, through the ringing silence in her ears, she heard a quiet noise, the hum of a sleek object flying through the air. A moment later, the still air erupted into confused shouts and pounding footfalls. She didn't dare move, terrified that whatever was happening, it most likely wasn't in their favor. 

However, Draco seemed to be curious as to why he wasn't dead yet, or at least pierced in the back with a sword. He took his arm out from underneath her head and slid to the side so that he was no longer on top of her. Torn between scared that he was no longer protecting her and being happy that she could actually see something, she lifted herself up onto one elbow and scanned the forest in confusion.

The gypsies were retreating back into the forest. At her and Draco's feet lay a man with an arrow sticking from his neck, his sword still in his loose hand. Several other corpses were sprawled nearby, all of them shot dead by arrows. 

"What the hell . . .?" Draco muttered, raising himself into a sitting position. 

Ginny sat up as well, noticing briefly that they were both still close enough for Draco's left leg to be slightly over her right one. Trying to put it out of her mind, and trying to slow her pounding heart, she wiped her wet cheeks and twisted around. Behind her, running rapidly towards them, were several dozens of men, either wearing armor and holding swords or carrying bows with quivers of arrows on their back. _Well that explains something, she thought._

Most of them ran right by Ginny and Draco, but one man who wore neither armor nor a quiver of arrows stopped and gave them both a quick bow. "Your Highnesses, allow me to escort you to a horse."

Next to her she felt Draco relax. Then, ignoring the young man who offered him his hand, he pulled himself up to his feet. As the man went to crouch beside Ginny and grab her arm to raise her, Draco snapped, "Hey, buddy, don't touch her. I've got her." The man quickly straightened, nodding, and stepped aside. Ginny tried to hide a smile as Draco lifted her up.

"So what exactly is going on?" Draco asked. Ginny leaned against him, and when he didn't seem to notice, she dared to put her arm around his waist. 

The young man gestured in the direction the knights and archers had come from, indicating they were to head that way. Slowly, using Draco for support, Ginny began to move. The man kept their pace patiently as he quickly explained.

"His Majesty sent his best fighters into the forest, Highness. We were lucky to have found you. If we had been but a moment later, I fear that the both of you would have been dead. Fortunately, we were able to stop that man who was seconds from slaughtering you, Your Highness. That servant –"

Ginny stopped listening to him, having no desire to hear the story. They had come, and that really was all that mattered to her at the time. She wanted nothing more than to peel off her disgusting, bloody dress, crawl into bed, and sleep for twenty-four hours straight.

_It's over, she thought, never experiencing such relief before. __We're not dead, and I'm not in the possession of the gypsies anymore._

She hadn't ever felt as exhaustingly happy as she did at that moment.

After a two minute walk they came to a clearing, where there were several horses and another couple of dozen knights and archers, apparently waiting around to be ordered to do something. One man, who looked important, climbed down from his horse and approached her and Draco, giving them a curt nod. "Your Highnesses, Her Majesty has sent me personally to see that you are both transported back to the castle safely. Your Highness," he said, clearly addressing Ginny, for he looked at her, "your mother asked that you ride on my horse –"

"She's not riding on anyone's _horse," Draco snapped._

If Ginny had had the energy to laugh, she would have. Instead she just smiled tiredly and said, "I would actually prefer to ride with Draco. Is that all right?" She did not tell him that she would feel ten times safer with Draco than him. Nobody needed to know that except herself.

The important man looked speechless for a moment, before he nodded again shortly. "Of course, as Her Highness wishes." Then he turned to Draco. "We found this horse not too far from here." He gestured to a horse behind him. "Is this the one that you rode earlier?"

"Yeah."

Ginny turned her face to look at him. "You had a horse," she said firmly, frowning, "and you arrived on foot? Why didn't you ride in and sweep me off my feet onto it?"

He smirked at her. "You read too many books. I would never do that."

_Right, I should've known, she told herself, sighing heavily. Feeling her eyelids start to droop, she turned to the important looking man and told him, "Just get us home as quickly as you can."_

The man bowed. "Of course, Your Highness." 

Ginny relaxed a moment against Draco, resting her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. "Thank you," she told him, quietly. When he didn't reply right away, she glanced up at him, and found him looking at her with an unreadable expression.

Then he smirked. "You're welcome . . . _Highness."_

Ginny felt the corners of her mouth tug into a smile. Glancing at him one last time, she thought, _My__ knight in shining armor._

For the first time in many days, she found the strength in her to laugh.

* * *

A/N: Okay, nice ending there. No evil cliffie. 

Oh, and just in case you were wondering, I do know exactly who the sidekick is and who murdered those people. Just letting you know, cuz I've been known to write a fic blindly and have no idea what anyone is going to do or whatever. So I actually have an ending all planned out – unfortunately, it's the time that leads up to the ending that I'm still a little shady on.

Also, someone has guessed the sidekick correctly. I'm not saying how many did, or who did, but just know that someone(s) has! 

Another thing: several people ask me in their reviews if I can email them when the next chapter's up. I would absolutely love to, but can you make a teensy bit easier on me and email me first instead? Because it really is a pain to have to look up email addresses, or go through all my reviews to see who asked for an email. As some of can tell, sometimes I totally forget and don't email *anyone*. So if you want an email, 'mail me first at mochabutterfly22@hotmail.com and I'll be sure to let you know when more chapters are up.

Now, thank yous:

**wmlaw**** (you know something? I also was reminded Ever After while writing that scene), ****The Jade Princess (of course I won't let Harry die!), ****kitty (of course he had to do with rescuing her, really, how boring would it be if he hadn't?), ****~*tHe bLuE FaErIe*~ (yes, I also doubt Harry was killing those people, heh), ****Mint (cruel? Well, I hope this chapter made up for it!), ****Demeter (it seems you know more than I do, lol), ****Elle B (why thank you), ****Nathalie (hope I updated quick enough, it's hard to go quickly with school and such), ****DobbyWinky (of course it's insane!), ****Night Spirit (he just *had* to find Ginny as well. And you're one of the few people who seem to enjoy Harry being a suspect, lol), ****ally (yes, they should stop denying the fact, shouldn't they?), ****Korinna**** Myorin, charismatic (hmm, maybe I should give you some hints . . . hmm . . .), ****FireballFlier****, Satans Little Princess, Jenie (you'll just have to read on and see if you want to know who's actually doing the killings and who the sidekick is, mua ha ha), ****Athena Lionfire16 (LOL! Fall off his horse . . . now there's an idea! Whoo, thanks for the review, hon, it amused me greatly), ****TheGirlWhoLived (he got there to save her, of course! He just had to ;)) ****Swim Angel (is he, now?? Hmm, very curious), ****Jey4eva (you bet he saved her), ****jburd****, Rebecca (thank you!), ****ChildLikeTendencies****, hpangel (lol, cave man talk), ****krissy**** (definitely romantic!), ****rita**** d., Gryffingirl (in response to 1: sorry there wasn't any snogging in this chapter, expect more in the next; 2: is Harry a killer?!!; and 3: hope I updated soon enough!), ****Midnight (lol, keeping his butt of the saddle – that's exactly what he was trying to do!), ****Redfeather**** (you like evil cliffies? All right!), ****wildmajik****, AngelStar88 (mean? Well, dahling, I am very mean, mua ha ha), ****meg****, Kat Riddle (hmm, interesting deduction [yes, I used a special word like deduction!] on it being James. But you'll just have to see :^D), ****Lanai****, Samie I am (you don't believe he's the killer? Well, let's hope he isn't, hmm? By the way, when I went to see the movie I Am Sam I thought of you and your name! Yes, I know I'm a dork), ****daygogurl****, NicoleTheNiveter (wow, all 70 pages? Is it really that long? Whoosh, thanks!), ****Su (more D/G action to come!), ****Kristen (so you like the suspense, huh?), ****Calendar (lol, a poem. Thank you much!), ****Lyn (thank you!), ****Sea Chelle (nope, I don't have a yahoo mailing list, too lazy to start one. And I'm glad you like my characters! I decided it was time for a "different" type of Harry, you know?), ****sOmEoNeSpEcIaL**** (you may be more right than you know), ****chaos-frack (split personality? Lol, perhaps), ****Archer (Glad you liked it, girlie. When are you going to have more TWtE, hmm? And what about the sequel to Catenatus? I'm *waiting*!), ****Katma**** (Lol, thanks), ****Evil*Fairy, Kawaii Sakuna (Thanks!), ****Rose Tangle (I know, the chapters are hideously long. I admire you for actually reading them. I know *I* wouldn't, lol. About the crown, hell, *I'd* love being a princess if it meant I got to wear a bunch of jewels! But yeah, just trying to show that she's a girl and human, ;) And I could change lots of things, I know, that's what makes it so fun to write!), ****~*Crystal Lily*~, VioletJersey (whoosh, the whole story? The next chapter hasn't even been started, much less the rest of the story written! Lol, thanks, chick), ****naavi**** (Thanks, I also love your A New Life For Lily fic! It was superbly done – wow, look at me, using such special words like "sepurbly", lol. Congrats on your swimming, I'm so jealous of you that you get to go to Europe!!), ****Ellie (lol, I'm very evil, aren't I?), ****FireSprite**** (LOL, yeah, cliffies are wonderful!! When are you going to update more of *your* fics, huh, Emma? I've been waiting for ages!), ****Dark-angel, JennyT (yes, we definitely need more D/G action, I agree), ****LilyAyl (there are millions of questions, aren't there? Mua ha ha!), ****Tangerine Caprigirl (A novel? Maybe, if I ever stop writing HP fanfictions!), ****Ginny Malfoy (wicked name! Thanks!), ****Angie/Dracanea, Julie B. (Glad to be the one who hooked you on HP fics!), ****Godric's**** Gal (sorry! I try to hurry with chapters, but I'm unbelievably busy, and these damned chapters *love* to become complicated and make me sit and think on what to do next! I'll try, though!), ****Shooting Jewel (I did you the favor, of course!), ****Asanya**** (woo-hoo! Go you! You were my 500th reviewer! That's the most than I've ever gotten on any fic – thank you so much!), ****tanuki-chan**** (thanks, you're review brightened my day a whole bunch!), ****Lucius****, ****witchy_grrl**** (oooh, Harry/Draco confrontation! Maybe next chapter!), ****audig (your favorite? Wow, thanks!), ****emeraldseaofgold (thank ya much!), ****angel15 (sorry it took me so long!), ****Sharlie****, and ****Lil**** 'Angel.**

Hope I didn't miss anyone!

Ciao for now!


	12. Deceptions and Lies

A/N: Um, I tried hard to make Draco in character this chapter, because his and Ginny's relationship kind of changes. This is actually a rather dull chapter, sort of a transition, but I promise, the next one will get exciting. I really, really, really apologize for the lack of action.

Also, in a pervious chapter, I made a mistake. I said something along the lines of _Back in 1997_ when if indeed they are to get back, the year would be 1998. Terribly sorry.

**Chapter Twelve**   
_Deceptions and Lies_

It was well after noon when Maria shook Ginny from a deep, sound sleep. She hadn't slept so well in the past days since she'd been there, and she was reluctant to open her eyes. 

"Midday meal, Highness," whispered Maria. "Come, food is what you need. Wake up, dear."

_Food_. Now that was enough to get her up. Slowly, she raised herself into a sitting position among the many pillows that were set up against the back board of her bed, wincing slightly as she put pressure on her sliced hand. Glancing down at it, she saw it was firmly wrapped with white bandage. She didn't need to worry about it anymore - right now, she was starving. She allowed Maria to set the silver tray across her lap. Ravenous, she began eating at once, and she chewed and shoved the food into her mouth in a most unprincess like way. 

There was something nagging at her mind, though. Something that she shouldn't be forgetting . . . 

Then she remembered, and it made her stomach churn and the food turn to stone in her mouth. 

Harry. 

_I need to do something about him_, she realized. In an instant she made up her mind. Placing the tray aside, she began to shove the mounds of blankets off of her, glancing up at Maria. There was an odd look on the maid's face, one that Ginny couldn't recognize. Before she could attempt to figure it out, the expression was gone, replaced with a warm smile and her twinkling black eyes. 

"Feeling better, dear?" 

"Sort of," she admitted, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. She hadn't even bothered to change into a night dress; the night before, she'd just ripped off her filthy skirt and bodice and slept in her underthings. She'd managed to fall asleep despite the pinching of the corset, and the fluffiness and itchiness of her lacy petticoats. "Send Harry in here, please," she ordered rather abruptly. 

Maria's kind face melted into one of surprise. "But you are not decent, Highness –"

A little annoyed, Ginny nodded. "Yes, I know. But all the parts that need covering are, so there's nothing wrong with him coming. Just send him in here immediately." 

"As - as you wish, Your Highness." Maria actually bowed her head before turning and leaving the room. 

Once she was alone, Ginny stood up and began to pace. There was an unsettling feeling inside her, because she knew it was foolish to send for Harry if he was, indeed, the killer. He could kill her without thinking twice. 

But then, that would be stupid. If he did kill her, then everyone would know it was him, because he would have been the only one with her. 

Still, a small part of her was wondering why she didn't just tell her parents about the knife. There would be no way to convict him of murdering, of course, but she was pretty certain it was against rules for a servant to have a weapon, especially in the presence of royalty. If her parents knew, they would be sure to send him to jail for it. She could just imagine her mother claiming her life was in danger because a lowly servant possessed a dagger. Wouldn't it be easier just to tattle on him, and have him locked away, unable to kill? 

It would be, she knew, but there was also a strong chance that the king and queen would overreact. They might have Harry killed for it. And if he was killed, and the murders continued, proving he wasn't the one doing it, then she would never forgive herself. Surely she still, deep down, believed that he was innocent, that he couldn't be so brutal and cold. She needed to see him and give him a chance to defend himself. 

_I will be able to tell if he's lying or not_, she thought. _Future Harry was never good at hiding his feelings; this Harry can't be either. _He certainly had trouble hiding his anger and resentment towards her, if that was any hint to how well he was able to contain his emotions. 

So she would ask him questions. She would find out if he was guilty or not. And when, only when, she was sure he was, then she would tell her parents about the knife he had in his possession. And she would make sure he was only locked away for it, not killed. 

It was a little odd how she still cared for him, even though he hated her, and though he might be hurting children and their parents. Somehow, she could never bring herself to loath or despise the face of Harry Potter. 

What was the _real_ Harry Potter doing now? In the future? Was time still going on three hundred and ninety years from now? Was the earth still revolving, and was she there experiencing it? _Perhaps_, she thought, furrowing her brows together, _the Ginny Weasley everyone in this world thinks I am is now in the future, playing me._

Is that what was happening? The princess of England had switched identities with her? Were their worlds completely warped, switched somehow, and it was possible that the _real_ princess didn't look anything remotely like Ginny did, or even have her name, but perhaps the minds of all those who knew her were tampered with, and made to believe that she actually looked like Ginny? 

Ginny let out a moan. It was all too complicated. A number of things could have happened to her. It was also possible that she just entirely disappeared from the future, that she was missing and her family and friends were searching for her. 

_They'll never find me_, she told herself with a dry, humorless laugh. _Not here._

Then another thought occurred to her. Maybe she just didn't _exist_ in the future. Whoever had done this to her, whoever had sent her back into this time, might have just wiped her existence from the face of the earth during the late twentieth century. There was still a Weasley family, perhaps, but there was no youngest sister. There was still a Chamber of Secrets, but it had never been opened, for no one had found Tom Riddle's diary and been used to open it. 

Thinking that she did not exist was so depressing, she felt her eyes burn with tears. What if she managed to get back to the future, and her own mother didn't recognize her? What then? What would she do? Live in a time when she wasn't even a _person_? When she didn't have any sort of existence or family or identity? That would be even worse then living now, she told herself. _Maybe its better we just stay here. At least Draco's here._

The knowledge was definitely more comforting then it would have been a week ago. But it still didn't make her feel warm and happy. 

_I won't be happy until I'm back in 1998_, she thought, sniffing and wiping at her eyes. _If my family doesn't recognize me, then I'll somehow worm my way into their lives. I'll make Mum take pity on me, and somehow become a part of them again. I won't let them never know me._

And maybe she was totally overreacting anyway. She would never know, though, if she didn't find a way to get back. 

There came a knock on Ginny's doors, and she hurriedly wiped her eyes dry and sucked in a breath. "Come in," she called, thankful for her steady voice. 

Harry stepped in, and started to close the door behind him, when he looked up and saw her. Instantly he looked back down and murmured, "I beg your pardon, Highness. I shall wait until you are dressed . . ." 

Frowning, she spoke before he could leave. "It doesn't matter," she told him. "I just want to speak with you for a moment. I've get enough on, and if I don't mind you looking at me, then you shouldn't mind, either." 

He kept his eyes on the floor, but nodded and shut the door. He did not attempt to move further into the room. 

Ginny inhaled deeply, and jumped right to her first question. "Where did you get that knife?" 

"What knife?" he asked, distractedly, staring fixedly at the carpet. 

His cheeks were clearly flushed, and that threw Ginny off. How could he be guilty of murdering when he blushed at the sight of her bare feet and arms? 

"You know what knife I'm referring to," she said calmly and coolly, her tone clipped and short. "The one with the black hilt. The one you used in the carriage." 

"Where did I get it?" he repeated, still looking down. Was he avoiding her eyes because he was trying to lie, or was he honestly so embarrassed to stare at her? 

"Yes." 

"Why does it matter?" 

She sighed, a bit frustrated. Why couldn't he just answer the question? She curled her toes into the carpet, and went straight to the point. "Did you kill them?"

He jerked his head up, finally meeting her gaze. She stared hard into his eyes, trying to hint deception. His face was sincerely surprised at the question, but his eyes were clouded. With what sort of emotion? Why couldn't she decide? It was a mix of several, she figured. Shock, hatred, sadness, and . . . pity? If it was pity, then it had to be for himself. 

"Kill whom?" he asked. He was puzzled, she could tell by his tone, but was it just to mask something else? Did she hint some malice underneath it? 

"We spoke of this in the carriage yesterday," Ginny replied, surprised at her own businesslike manner. "Before . . . the gypsies." 

Harry's face relaxed into understanding, and his eyes narrowed. "Ah yes, I remember. You think I killed all those people." 

"Did you?" 

"No!" There was no hesitation, only straightforward indignation and insistence. For all she could tell, he was being truthful. 

"Then why do you have the very knife that was used to murder those families?" she demanded. 

He blinked, taken aback. "I don't." He spoke softly, without much backbone. It was the first strong hint that proved he did not believe what he was saying. 

"You do." She pressed her lips into a thin line. "And you know you do. I can tell. So if you have the murdering weapon . . ." She took a few steps closer to him, hoping that perhaps she could read his expression better. ". . . then I'm guessing you murdered people. So tell me the truth, Harry. Did you or did you not kill those families?" 

As she came closer, he took a step back and his back pressed against the doors. His face hard, but his eyes unusually quiet and calm, he hissed, "I did not. The truth I am telling, Highness. Such a thing I would not lie about." 

Oh, how much she wanted to believe him. He sounded so . . . sincere. _But if he didn't kill, then why does he have the knife? _her mind yelled at her, reminding her not to give in. She could not let her feelings for him interfere in her judgment. 

"Then tell me another truth . . . where did you get the knife?" She was right before him now, giving him no way to step around her. "Tell me, Harry, and don't skip around the answer." 

His eyes suddenly lit up with fire. "You want to know, Your Highness? All right, I shall tell you. I got it from the doctor." 

Ginny squeezed her eyebrows together in confusion. That certainly was _not_ the answer she was expecting. "From Tom?"

"Thomas," he corrected, and he relaxed his tense muscles, his gaze softening. "He gave it to me just before we left on the carriage yesterday." 

"Wh - why?" Ginny wasn't sure why her heart was pounding. She was sure Harry could hear it. 

"I am not entirely sure," he replied, and she knew right away he was telling the truth. "When he gave it to me, he said, 'Use this for protection. You and the princess may need it.' He had an odd expression, one that I did not trust, but I did not know how to tell him no, for he is higher rank than I. So I accepted." 

_He knew_. _Tom knew the gypsies would attack us. _Ginny tried to steady her breathing._ It has to be why he gave Harry the knife._

Tom was probably the very one who had the gypsies attack her. He must've told them where to intercept the carriage. 

Oh, how could she, even for an _instant_, have thought Harry was the one to fear? It was Tom, just as she'd thought in the beginning! Even as she pondered now, he could be out killing more people. And she was wasting her time with Harry. How could she have been such a fool? 

Without even thinking, Ginny collapsed against Harry, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He stiffened at her touch, but she did not care; she held him tight, resting her cheek against his shoulder, and tried to stop her tears from coming. "I'm so sorry," she told him quietly, closing her eyes and breathing him in. Oh, he smelled so much like future Harry . . . of the same sort of soap. It was reassuring, the most reassurance she'd had in ages. 

It was so wonderful to just have someone to lean against she didn't even care that he wasn't hugging her back, that his own arms were hanging limply at his sides and he was tense and unmoving. She was holding him, and that was enough. Though holding him wasn't like holding Draco – Draco was erotic, and thrilling, and dangerous – holding Harry was almost . . . brotherly. It was like hugging one of her brothers, and God, how she missed that. 

"I'm sorry of all the things I did to you," she said, her voice thick with the sound of tears. "I'm a stupid person, an idiot, and I know that. And I know you can never forgive me. But just know that I'll always be here for you, Harry, if you ever need me. If you or your father need anything, then you come right to me. Don't even think; just do it." 

She released him and pulled away, looking down as she dried her cheeks with the heel of her hand. Harry was staring at her with a closed face, a stony face, and even his eyes were unreadable. She didn't know if he believed her, but it didn't matter, at least not at the moment. She would have to deal with Harry later; right now, she needed to see Draco. 

"You may go," she said quietly, turning away from him. He didn't need to see her pathetic tears. 

He did not move for a long moment. Finally, just when she was about to yell at him to get out, he said quietly, "My father tells me not to trust you." 

The gentleness in his voice made her turn. Her arms were crossed firmly over her chest, and she could feel her heart thudding beneath her ribs. "I can't be blamed for what my parents did," she whispered, as an annoying tear leaked out. God, how she hated crying in front of people. It made her look so helpless, she knew. 

His eyes hinted his compassion as he replied, "We cannot choose our family. I do not blame you for what happened." 

Before she could think about what he meant, he turned and left the room. 

* * * 

An hour later, Ginny was dressed and sitting on Draco's bed. She'd barged right in and found him asleep, and woken him up. They needed to talk, and badly. 

She watched as his scrawny servant dressed him, not feeling the least bit awkward of being present. As long as he was wearing something on his hips, then that was fine enough for her. And as it was, he was wearing a lot of clothing, as everyone did during this bloody time. She thought it was rather remarkable how different it was nearly four hundred years later. 

"I'm going to have Alexandria come here," Ginny told Draco, biting the inside of her cheek to attempt to hide a grin as he was trying to step into his tight trousers. Hurriedly, before she could burst out laughing, she went on. "Maybe she has some idea of how to get us back." 

"Wouldn't it make more sense just to have Dumbledore come here?" Draco asked. He slapped his servant's hand away and buttoned his trousers himself. 

"Yes. But first I would like to see this girl first." 

"Draco shrugged, tossing his hair from his eyes and meeting her gaze. "Whatever. Just as long as we eventually see Dumbledore." 

"And just as long as he comes here. I don't trust venturing out in a carriage right now." She grinned at him. _I should come in while he's dressing more often_, she thought. It was the most amusement she'd had in what seemed like years. 

He caught her smiling at him, and raised an eyebrow and smirked. "All right, I'm glad you're being turned on by this little show, but maybe you could leave now and go send for this sorceress woman?"

Standing, she started to leave, but then thought of something. Pausing, she looked at him, wondering if she should ask what she had on her mind. Draco and his servant were busy fiddling with his large collar, but Draco could feel her eyes on him, and asked, "What?" 

She sat back down, biting her lower lip. "Yesterday, when you saved me from that gypsy . . ." 

When she didn't continue, he pressed, "Yeah . . .?" 

"How long had you been there?" 

"What do you mean?" He shot her a glance, his face only showing interest and no other emotion. 

"Well, I'm grateful for your timing . . ." She hesitated. "But I could have used you about three minutes earlier. I screamed quite a bit, didn't I? Didn't you hear me?" 

"I heard you," he said slowly. 

Embarrassed, Ginny tried to think of a way to state the question. She ran a hand over her forehead. "Then why did you wait so long to come to my rescue?" 

Now he'd given up on helping his servant dress him, and stood there while the young boy kept working. Draco blew air out loudly through his lips, looking over towards the door, before returning his eyes to hers. "Well, partially because I wasn't nearby the entire time. I was actually quite a distance away, trying to find my horse." 

That wasn't the response she'd expected to hear. Widening her eyes, she asked, "What?" 

He stared at her for a moment, then walked and sat down beside her on the bed, ignoring the fact that his servant was still in the middle of dressing him. "I sat there thinking for a few minutes, and figured that I would have a helluva better chance with my horse, now that everyone was settled and not moving about. So I left just for a little while, when I heard you scream, and I tried to run back in time. It took me about a minute, because it's close to impossible to run in deep snow. By the time I got there you were up and running, but looking like hell because you had blood all over you. It was rather gross, actually." 

She glared at him. "Sorry for disgusting you," she snapped. "If you had been intelligent and brought your goddamn horse in the first place, you would've taken that greasy guy off me in time, and I wouldn't have had to bash his head in with a rock and gotten blood all over me." 

He raised a brow at her. "You hit him in the head with a rock?"

"It was a kill or be killed situation, Draco," Ginny replied, sticking up her chin. "He was strangling me to death." 

_"You_ killed a person?" He was obviously having a hard time believing this. 

"I don't know if I killed him," she retorted, feeling annoyed at his reaction. "He might just have brain trouble for the rest of his life." 

Slowly, Draco grinned. "You – a Gryffindor – actually killed someone. This world must really screw up your mind." 

She stood up, her eyes still narrowed down at him. "I'm leaving now. I'm going to send someone to bring Alexandria here. And if you keep teasing me about that rock incident, I will make sure that I go back home by _myself_." 

Draco shook his head, still grinning. "Nah, you wouldn't do that. You promised you would bring me back with you, and even though you killed someone, you're still a Gryffindor, and you wouldn't break your promise. You're too _loyal."_ He made the word seem stupid; silly. 

"Will you shut up?" That familiar annoyance was surfacing again, and she felt like slapping his smug face. 

"There's only one way to keep me quiet." 

"And what's tha –" she started, but he reached out and grabbed her hand, tugging her down so he could reach her lips. Startled, she stared at his closed eyelids. Then another familiar emotion washed over her – that of complete bliss, and utter surrender. It was almost ironic that she seemed to love his kiss almost as passionately as she hated his attitude. 

Unfortunately, the kiss was short and cool, at least compared to the others they'd shared. He pulled away first, grinned arrogantly at her, and dropped his hold on her hand. "All right, get out of here. This is my room." 

Ginny was glad she had her back to him as she left, so he wouldn't see the ridiculous smile on her face. 

She quickly located Richard to get her mind off Draco, and gave the head of servants direct instructions to send someone to retrieve Alexandria and have her brought back to the castle. "Send her directly to me when she arrives, okay?" Ginny confirmed. 

"Exactly as you please, Your Royal Highness," Richard said, staring at her through half-closed lids. He always looked as though he were about to fall asleep. 

Afterwards, Ginny headed back to find Draco, not quite sure what they'd do once she found him. But she didn't even get to the corridor his room was located; halfway there, her mother ran in to her, seemingly appearing from the wall, but really just leaving a dark hallway into the brighter one Ginny was walking in. 

Queen Lavinia was looking flushed, her Mediterranean complexion tinged with red in the cheeks, and gave Ginny a simple curl of her lips, rather than a smile, when she saw her. "Darling, I've found you. Come with me, you must tell Francis and me all that happened to you yesterday." 

Ginny bit her lower lip, trying to keep in a groan. She really _didn't_ want to describe the previous day. But Lavinia was already grabbing her wrist and leading her to where she wanted her to go. Her grip around Ginny's wrist was gentle, almost motherly, but her slender fingers were freezing. 

"We were so worried, you know," Lavinia said, looking straight ahead and not bothering to talk over her shoulder. Her voice had emotion in it, Ginny noticed, but she thought it was a little _too_ much emotion. Too fake; too dramatic. "Once that servant Gary or whatever his name is –"

"Harry," Ginny corrected dully. 

"– came right to Robert and said that you were taken hostage by gypsies, I think my heart about stopped." There was a hint of tears in her tone now, and for a moment, Ginny thought that maybe she had perceived the queen much too harshly than she really was. But then she continued, "I am not sure in the least what we would do if you were not here. Who would care for the kingdom? I shall not live forever, and I do not intend to try. I especially do not want to rule forever. I am looking _so_ forward to being able to retire – I only need wait how many days? Eight? Is it really only a week until the wedding?" 

Ginny's stomach lurched, though she wasn't sure if the feeling was pleasant or not. In eight days she would be married. In nine days she would no longer be single. She'd be seventeen and married. _I'll be Ginny Malfoy_, she thought, her mouth going dry. _Queen Ginny Malfoy. Her Royal Majesty Ginny Malfoy. _Whatever her title, it would always end in the words _Ginny Malfoy._

Why wasn't the thought as awfully horrifying as it had been when she had first heard about it? 

"We still have so much planning to do," the queen continued, now almost whining. "Can you believe the flowers still have yet to be ordered? It is such a mess. The only thing that seems to be working right now is the making of your gown. But what with you nearly dying of sickness, and getting yourself kidnapped by barbarians – well, there shan't be anyone to wear it come Christmas Day."

_If you threw that bastard who claims to be my doctor in jail then I reckon I will be quite fine, _she thought furiously. She had to grit her teeth to keep from retorting. 

Lavinia released her wrist and motioned gracefully for Ginny to come up beside her. She obeyed, wondering what her mother would think if she suddenly bolted down the hallway. She'd probably yell, "_Where are your manners?"_ before beginning to whine and moan about how Ginny could break her neck running in such a heavy skirt. 

"I am eager to hear about what happened with you and those savages," Lavinia said, the word _savages_ rolling off her tongue like it was bitter tasting. For a moment, Ginny fumed. _Eager? _she thought. _As is if my kidnapping was an adventure, something that would make a great story?_ "Francis will need to be present, of course, to find out exactly what occurred," the queen added. "He shall be sure those fools are jailed for what –"

"Who's Francis?" Ginny interrupted absently, not even realizing that since her mother was calling him by his first name that she should know precisely who he was. 

Lavinia raised her elegant eyebrows, her lips puckered, which Ginny found to be a weird expression. "You know very well who Francis is,' she said sternly. "Elsabeth's father."

"Oh, right," Ginny muttered. 

"Elsabeth wanted to come, as well," the queen said. She stopped before a set of closed doors, but did not go in. Turning, she faced Ginny. "But she was busy preparing for the ball. She may come around later . . ."

_Oh no, I'm not going to another ball, am I?_ Ginny wanted to moan. But instead she asked casually, "Is this a ball we will be attending?"

"Do not to be stupid, Virginia," Lavinia snapped. "Of course we are. That is the ball we will be going to on Christmas Eve – the only one I am looking forward to, I might add. Then there is one we must make an appearance at on Christmas Day, before the wedding ceremony. You know that there are going to be many parties and such we will be attending following the wedding. And that we are heading for Whitehall Palace the twenty-sixth. We shall be busy well into January. 

"But enough of that now," Lavinia concluded. "You should know that; why you are asking I cannot understand. But come, Francis is waiting, and you know how impatient the dear man is . . ."

Ginny rolled her eyes towards the ceiling as Lavinia turned and opened the doors. She went in first, and Ginny followed. 

It was the same sitting room Ginny had first met _Prince_ Draco, the one with the velvet couches and armchairs and roaring fire. 

There were two people in the room – the man who was Francis, and the maid pouring him tea. Ginny recognized Francis to be the important looking guy who had been waiting for them the day before, who had offered for her to ride on his horse. He was an attractive man, in his mid thirties, with longish brown hair and gray-green eyes. He was wearing something similar to what Draco was always wearing – tight trousers that resembled leggings, and an embroidered vest-like shirt, and leather shoes. Though his clothes weren't as fine as Draco's were, because he obviously wasn't royalty. 

Ginny was quite certain he had been flirting with the cute – though young – maid who was pouring his drink, for he had been smiling leeringly at her when they'd entered, and the poor girl's face was bright red. When they entered, Francis immediately rose, grinning, and the maid bobbed a curtsy and hurried towards the door. 

"Don't stray too far, Rebecca," the queen scolded as she passed. "I might be requesting some more tea." 

"Yes, Your Majesty." Rebecca curtsied one last time and left. 

Ginny glanced at her mother. Lavinia had her attention on Francis now, and she was smiling broadly, making her look warmer, and prettier. "Lieutenant," she drawled, holding out her hand. "It does my heart wonders to see you again." 

Francis – _clearly a lieutenant_, Ginny thought – continued grinning and kissed her knuckles. "As well as mine, Your Majesty. It has been nearly a month, has it not?" 

Lavinia pouted, and Ginny resisted the urge to gag loudly just to show her annoyance. "I blame Robert for sending you all over Europe to settle silly things. Is that not what _he_ is for? Anyhow, let us not dwell on such unimportant matters. I see that you got my message on meeting my darling Ginny yesterday; I thank you with all my heart. You are such a dear man, Francis. . ."

Ginny was really beginning to think she should've just made up some excuse so she wouldn't have to stay around her mother. It was almost gross how thickly and sweetly she was talking to this man, as if they were the only two in the room. Ginny cleared her throat loudly, reminding them of her presence, so they would not go on. 

"And you, Your Highness," Francis announced, looking at her. "Looking a trifle better than you were last night, eh?" 

Ginny smiled tightly. "Just at trifle!" she agreed overenthusiastically, and could not resist the urge to clap her hands together. The fact was, though, she wasn't much better since the day before, because despite how she's washed her face and hands and put on clean clothes, her body was still covered with the dirt and sweat from the previous day. 

"Wonderful." Francis returned his eyes to Lavinia. 

"Shall we sit?" Lavinia smiled too brightly, embarrassed by Ginny's behavior. She knew very well that Ginny was mocking the way Francis was acting. And Ginny knew she shouldn't be, for he seemed like a nice man, but the way he had spoke she couldn't resist. 

Ginny was the first to drop down ungracefully onto the couch, and pressed her lips together when Francis sat beside her, smiling. 

The queen sat on the couch, her back as straight as a metal pole, her face showing no discomfort. Instead, she gestured a hand towards Ginny, the candlelight glinting off the many jeweled rings she wore. "Ginny, darling, would you please explain to Francis exactly what these . . . _barbarians_ looked like?" 

Ginny blinked, staring at Lavinia for a stunned moment. "What do you mean, what they looked like? When I was rescued yesterday, there was, like, fifty guys with swords and arrows who ran after them. Are you telling me that you didn't capture the whole group of them?" 

She was surprised, not trying to mean, but Lavinia's cold eyes shot daggers at Ginny, proving that she did not like the tone she was using. Ginny shifted and fixed her gaze on Francis, who was still smiling, though it had lost some of its brightness. She chose to ignore the way her mother was looking at her. 

"Care to explain this to me, Lieutenant?" Ginny asked, hoping she sounded a bit gentler than before. She hadn't meant to sound so harsh – apparently her mother was taking it that way, and judging by how Francis's smile had lost its luster, he was thinking she was being rude, too. 

"We killed many of them," he replied effortlessly, though his face was troubled. "But several got away. More than several, in fact. About half the band. I had requested that none of them be killed, for it would be too simple a death for such . . . well, I suppose creatures would be the correct term to the call them . . . who would dare harm you. They seemed to outrun my men – it is not easy to run in armor. And it is not easy to shoot arrows through a thicket of trees. In short, they managed to get away. I am almost as upset by it as you, Your Highness."

"Well, no loss, I guess." Ginny shrugged, appearing nonchalant, but inside she felt a little uneasy. Would Tom use them again to try and kill her? If he did, then they would certainly kill her without thinking twice, because not only had she almost murdered their leader, but she was also responsible for half their men being shot down by arrows. 

_It's no use in worrying about it_, she told herself. _It's bad enough living in this world – I won't make it worse by being paranoid all the time._

"Well . . . Ginny, why don't you explain what happened, then," Lavinia suggested throwing another sweet smile at Francis. 

He smiled back, but Ginny could tell it was only to be polite. She could almost sympathize with him; he couldn't stand the queen, she could tell. 

She only told the story because Francis wanted to hear it, and because it might help capture the gypsies. But she left many things out. She explained that she and Harry were going in to town to buy gifts for Christmas – and inside she desperately hoped they actually bought presents during this time, but since neither interrupted her and asked questions, she went on – and the gypsies had come and killed the knights guarding the carriage. Then she told the truth for the most part, just leaving out the part of Alec kissing her and on top of her, and of nearly smashing his head in with a rock. She merely said that when they weren't paying attention she managed to run from the camp, stumbled into Draco in the woods, and that was when the gypsies found she was gone and they both had to sprint away. 

"Oh," Lavinia breathed when Ginny was finished. "You poor darling – I did not realize how dangerous it was."

_It was even more dangerous then I said it was, honey_, she thought, trying not to roll her eyes. 

"It was just lucky that His Highness was there, eh?" Francis said, smiling warmly at Ginny. She had to allow a tiny smile back. 

Now why couldn't she have a father like Francis? 

Then she felt angry for thinking such a thing. _I _do_ have a father . . . who's a hundred times better than Francis_, she told herself firmly. _I just need to get back to the time when he exists._

The queen abruptly changed the subject. Ginny knew she couldn't last ten minutes without the topic being about herself. While Francis patiently listened, and Lavinia chattered on and on, Ginny zoned out and thought of nothing in particular. She was getting fidgety – when they excuse her so she could send for Alexandria? 

"Would you like that, Your Highness?"

"What?" Ginny snapped out of her stupor and glanced at Francis. Once again, she could see out of the corner of her eye her mother glaring at her, angry because she was not paying attention. 

"I said, would you and the prince care to join Elsabeth and myself to the performance tomorrow evening?" he repeated, sounding slightly amused. 

"What sort of performance?" Ginny asked. 

"Were you not listening?" Lavinia demanded. 

"It is quite all right, Your Majesty," Francis said with a grin. "I often daydream myself. I was just talking about the Shakespearean play that's opening tomorrow night at the Robertian Theater. I do believe that William himself will be there."

Ginny was clueless. "William . . .?" she said, waiting for him to elaborate. 

Francis gave her an odd look, finally realizing that she was acting a bit weird. "Shakespeare," he finished flatly, indicating in his tone that she was a bit on the slow side for not realizing who he meant. 

Ginny's first reaction was to say, "You idiot, Shakespeare's dead." But then she remembered that she was not in the twentieth century, and that there was a very strong possibility that he _could_ be alive. It surprised her, but she found that she was excited by it, too. Go see a Shakespearean play with the writer there in person? How many people did she know could say that they'd done that in her time? 

"Wow, I would love to go," she said sincerely. "Which play is it?"

_"A Midsummer Night's Dream_, if I am not mistaken," replied Francis, looking pleased at her thrilled expression. 

At least she had _one_ thing to look forward to. She was now even more eager to leave so she could tell Draco. Even though it was very unlikely that he would even care. 

"Is it not Cuthbert Burbage performing tomorrow evening?" asked Lavinia. 

"I believe all three of the Burbage brothers will be in the performance –" Francis started. 

"May I be excused?" Ginny interrupted, no longer able to contain herself. She was not about to sit for another hour with her mother. 

Lavinia gave Ginny another death glance, raising her eyebrows briefly to say plainly that she was furious with her for cutting in the conversation so ungracefully. "You can stay here and talk with us, Virginia." She spoke carefully and coolly, and there was only an icy hint of her fury in her voice. 

Francis laughed. "I must be leaving anyhow, Your Majesty," he announced, standing up. "I thank you for your never wavering hospitality, and I hope to come again soon. I shall see you tomorrow evening, Your Highness," he added, glancing at Ginny. He bowed, kissed Lavinia's outstretched hand, winked at Ginny, then turned and exited the room. 

"Your manners were absolutely _appalling_," Lavinia snapped the minute the doors were closed behind him. "I have _never_ been so greatly ashamed of you in my _entire_ life. You were _slouching_! And biting your nails – oh, I cannot even bear to imagine what Francis thinks of you. What the devil has gotten into you, Virginia?"

Ginny, unprepared for such a verbal attack, stared at her for a second. "Sorry," she said after a slight pause, shrugging. She really didn't care what the queen thought of her. But had she really been biting her nails? She hadn't even noticed. 

"Get out of my sight," Lavinia said sharply, "before I loose my temper and have you beheaded. Lord knows I cannot afford to kill off my only heir . . ."

"You sure don't seem to mind killing off your innocent servants," Ginny muttered darkly, glaring. She stood as the queen continued to murmur to herself, before hearing what Ginny had said. 

Lavinia jerked her head and stared up at Ginny. Ginny held her eyes for one moment before she started towards the door. "_What_ did you just say, Ginny?" she demanded breathlessly. 

She stopped halfway to the door, twisting around and smirking. "Would you like me to say it again? What I said was, _you sure don't mind killing off your innocent servants_," she repeated, slowly and clearly. 

Lavinia looked startled for a moment before her eyes turned hard and cold. "I don't know what you are talking about," she said quietly. "Now you are really starting to annoy me."

Ginny stared at her for a long minute, though she was already looking out the window and talking to herself under her breath. For the longest time she had many, many terrible things to say, all at the tip of her tongue. She was seconds away from spilling out her true thoughts on how she saw her mother, but managed to contain herself, somehow. _It will only enrage me even more_, she contemplated. _And all the yelling in the world won't bring Harry's mum back anyway._

Some other day. Before she left the time and returned to her home, she would say all the things that Lavinia needed to hear. 

But not now. Now Ginny had to find Draco again, and wait for Alexandria to arrive. 

After asking a servant where he was, she learned he was with Elle in the library. And he was, seated at the round table in the middle, across from his sister. They were playing cards. 

"You cannot do that, Draco," Elle was scolding him, frowning down at the cards on the table. "It is against the rules and you know it!"

"What?" Draco asked, looking slightly puzzled. "I don't even know what I did wrong. I told you; I don't know how to play this bloody game." 

"What game are you playing?" Ginny asked, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her. Elle and Draco turned their heads, not noticing that she had entered before. 

"I don't even remember," Draco said, sounding grumpy. 

"Trump," said Elle. She grinned at Ginny's arrival. "Draco's being a lump about it – it is like he has forgotten how to play. Will you play with us and remind him how it is done?"

Ginny walked over and sat down in a chair. "I don't know how to play, either," she admitted. 

"Really? I thought you did." Elle raised her left eyebrow for a moment, much like Draco did, and looked almost suspicious. "Ah well, I shall teach you then, and you and I can beat Draco's shirt off."

"I don't see how. I'm wearing too many layers," Draco quipped. 

Ginny bit her lip to keep from laughing. Elle dealt the cards, which were very different from the ones Ginny were used to. In fact, the drawings on them were quite disturbing, almost sinister. Several of the pictures seemed to be of kings, but the others she couldn't tell. 

"What sort of cards are these?" Ginny asked, lifting her brows and making a face as she inspected them. 

"They're French," Draco and Elle replied at the same time. 

Draco smirked. "I asked the same question. Apparently, French cards are a bit . . . evil."

"As everybody already knows," Elle said, her tone saying plainly that it was the most obvious thing. Then she went on to explain the game, which was rather simple. After a few minutes, Ginny got the hang of it. It was actually entertaining, and kept her mind occupied for a few minutes. 

"We're going to a play tomorrow night," Ginny said to Draco, suddenly remembering it. 

"I'm thrilled," Draco said dully, laying down one of his cards. 

"You imbecile, Draco, you cannot do that," Elle said, for what seemed like twentieth time since Ginny had gotten there. "You keep that king . . . no, you cannot put that one down, either. Put the knave down . . . there. What happened to your brain, brother? You used to beat me all the time at this game. Did the gypsies hit you in the head a bit too hard?"

"Ha ha," Draco said with a hard face. Ginny noticed he was crabby, and she knew it was because he was loosing tremendously to his little sister and her. It was almost amusing how annoyed he was looking. 

"You won't believe what sort of play it is," Ginny went on, dropping one of her kings on the table. 

"And you won't believe how much I don't care to know what sort of play it is," he replied, looking surly when Elle placed one of her cards down and squealed in triumph. She won the hand – again. 

"Well, I guess the play itself doesn't really matter," Ginny admitted. "It's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. But Shakespeare's going to be there."

"Himself?" Draco lifted his eyebrow, focused in on dealing the cards. 

"Yes. We're going tomorrow night."

"Ooh, Shakespeare," said Elle, peering at her hand. "I went to _Romeo and Juliet_ a couple of years ago. I did not understand what it was about, of course, because I was only five, but the costumes and sets were amazing – well, at least I think they were. All I remember is a lot of color. I think you went, too, Draco, didn't you?"

"No," Draco replied smoothly as if he didn't even consider her question, and then sneered at his cards. "Shit, I get the worst deal every damn hand."

"Watch your mouth, Draco," Elle snapped. 

"I can't; it's kind of attached to my face. Look, see my cards?" he continued without a breath. "I've got nothing. _Nada. _I'm going to loose again."

"Well, of course you're going to loose if you keep showing us what you've got," Ginny told him, rolling her eyes. 

Draco gave her a sarcastic look but didn't comment. 

They played for another two hours, giving up on Trump and going on to a few other games: Primero, Gleek, and a couple of others Ginny didn't remember the name of. She had never heard of any of them, but she knew it was a possibility they were played in her time. 

Finally, tired of loosing every single game, Draco threw down his cards and stood up. "God, this is irritating. You two beat me every time. I'm going to get something to drink."

Ginny shot a grin at Elle, who smiled back. She'd been having an enjoyable time playing with them – she'd actually laughed a couple of times at Draco's loosing streak. Sometimes even he cracked a tiny smile, but it was not one that reached his eyes. 

"I'll be right back," Ginny told Elle, standing up and following after Draco. She had to jog slightly to catch up with him down the hall, which was hard in her skirts. Once she was at his side, she asked, "I sent for Alexandria. She should be coming any minute now. I actually expected her a hour ago."

"Wonderful," he replied distractedly, then glanced at her. "So that's why you're following me?"

"That," she grinned, "and I was wondering if you would play chess with me. I'm going to ask Elle for a board – chess _was_ invented during this time, right?" 

"Are you kidding, Ginny, chess has been around forever," Draco told her. "And sure, I'll play chess, because I know I can beat you at that."

"Ha, I wouldn't be so confident," she warned. "I learned from the best."

"Oh, that's right," Draco said with a sneer. "Your brother nearly got bashed to death on a giant chess board during first year, didn't he? Wow, he must be real professional."

Ginny gave him an impatient look. "Draco, you're just jealous because _you_ didn't get save the day that time."

"Let me just _begin_ to tell you how jealous I am of not being nearly killed when I was eleven," he drawled, giving her an edgy glance. "Dammit, some people get all the luck. Your bloody brother stole my dream right from me."

"Just shut up," she snapped. Why was it he had to make a sarcastic remark for everything she said? 

"Where are we going, anyway?" Draco asked, stopping and glancing around the corridor. "We're just walking around." 

Ginny paused, too, and shrugged. "First I want to go find Richard and see if Alexandria is ever going to come," she answered. She headed in the direction of the kitchens, hoping Richard was there. Draco followed her, muttering to himself about something. 

Luckily, Richard was overseeing things in the kitchen, practically breathing down some woman's neck as she cooked a stew. When he saw Ginny, he straightened and gave her a short bow. "Is there anything you are needing, Your Highness?"

"Yes," she said, frowning. "Alexandria - I told you to send for her hours ago."

"Ah yes, Your Highness, and I did so," he told her with a curt nod. "However, with all due respect, you are mistaken, for there is no one by the name Alexandria in the village."

Ginny blinked, caught off guard. Behind her she heard Draco suck in a breath, most likely an inpatient one. "What?" she asked dumbly.

"There is no one named Alexandria in the village," Richard repeated slowly and smoothly, thinking she had not heard him properly. "I sent one of the quickest messengers in to town, and he reported he asked just about every household if they had an Alexandria, or if they knew anyone by the name. No one did."

Ginny was unbelievably confused. No Alexandria? That had to be impossible. Maria had mentioned her, and Harry had said he'd heard of her before . . . was it possible that she'd gotten the name wrong? Maybe it was Alexandra, or . . . but no, Alexandria was not an easy name to misunderstand.

_Well, I suppose it doesn't matter_, Ginny thought, trying to ease her unsettled stomach. _Dumbledore really is the only one we'll need, right?_

Ginny spun on her heel and walked from the sweltering kitchen quickly. It didn't matter - but it was still bothering her. Why had Maria told her of a person that didn't exist? And why did Harry say he'd heard of her? Perhaps Maria had been referring to someone _outside_ the village. That was likely. But if Alexandria was the closest sorcerer outside the village, then why had no one heard of her? Surely she had to be popular.

"I reckon your little maid woman is a little misinformed," Draco said, close behind her as she strode through the freezing hallways. She could hear him smirking at her back.

"Who gives a damn what you reckon, Draco," Ginny retorted foully. "I'm going to ask her about it right now."

Draco stayed with her as she searched the castle for Maria, finally finding her sitting in a room Ginny had never been in before. She was doing needlework with three other maids, and they were all laughing when Ginny walked in.

"Hello, Highness. Is there something I can get you?" Maria immediately stopped her work and looked at Ginny with a warm smile.

Ginny managed a smile back. "Yes, Maria. Can I speak with you for a moment, out in the hall?"

"Of course." She looked slightly anxious, puzzled, and set her needlework in her chair as she stood, and followed Ginny back into the corridor, shutting the door. She glanced at Draco, then returned her eyes to Ginny's face, clearly asking why he was standing there.

"Just ignore him," Ginny told her with a tiny smirk, then sobered. "I need to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Why is there no Alexandria?" She shot her question instantly, hoping to completely surprise her.

Maria stared blankly for a moment, then smiled in realization. "Oh, the sorceress. But what the heavens do you mean, no Alexandria?"

"I sent someone into the village to bring her to the castle," Ginny replied. "There is no one by the name of Alexandria, and no one has ever heard of the name."

"Oh, dear, I thought you knew. She moved to the Wales and England border just a few days ago," Maria said with a smile. "No one ever needed her services here, so she moved."

"So she did live in our nearby village, correct?"

"Yes. In fact, she moved the day you were declared healthy again. Ironic how you just barely missed her." Maria grinned, her eyes twinkling warmly.

Ginny gave a fake smile. "Ah ha, yeah, real ironic. And you know what else is ironic?" Her voice was overly bright. "How _no_ one has ever heard of the woman, even though she just moved all of three days ago! How absolutely _hilarious_!"

Draco snorted, while Maria lost her happiness, her face turning into what appeared to be hurt. "Your Highness, do you think I lied about Alexandria?"

Immediately Ginny felt terrible, and her smile slipped off her lips. Maria was the _only_ friend she had in this world; what was she doing talking to her in such a way? She was probably acting the way the _real_, evil Princess Ginny was. "No," Ginny said quietly, hurriedly. "I don't. But I just find it odd - no, curious, that no one has heard of a sorcereress, which a profession that is not common in this world, who used to live here only days ago."

"I do not have the answer to that, Your Highness," Maria said softly. "I am sorry. I did not lie to you - there was a sorceress named Alexandria. I'm sure several people have heard of her in this castle . . ."

"Yeah, actually, Harry told me that he's heard of her," Ginny said quickly, hoping to redeem herself. Her gut was still wrenching inside for the look of pain she had caused Maria. "I don't think you lied, Maria. Really, I don't."

She smiled, but it was an absent and distant one. "Thank you, child. I shall return to my needlework; if you need anything, just tell me." And without another glance, she slipped back inside to the room.

"Well, that explains a lot," Draco said sarcastically.

"Yeah," Ginny said distractedly. "I suppose it doesn't really matter anymore anyway; the only thing that was bothering me was that I thought Maria had lied. Now that I know she didn't -" Draco clicked his tongue, but she ignored him and went on, "- we can just worry about Dumbledore. We'll send someone for him . . . you _are_ sure he exists, right?"

"Yes," he replied sharply. "I did see the man for myself."

"All right, perfect," Ginny said, inhaling slowly. She slapped her hands together, then glanced up at Draco and grinned. "Let's go play chess so I can beat you for the fiftieth time today."

He gave a mock laugh. "Yeah, you're confident now, but once _I_ beat _you, _you won't be."

* * *

Ginny managed to checkmate Draco six times before he finally quit playing. She found herself slightly disappointed, because she'd been having a good time - it was even more fun than cards had been. Half the time she was blinded by tears of laughter as she tried to make her move, hysterical over his grumbling and muttering and shouts of frustration whenever she took one of his pieces. And yet she still managed to win, tears and aching stomach and all.

After the sixth game, Draco stood up and knocked the small square table between them over, sending the chess pieces and board flying across the room. At first, Ginny was slightly scared, wondering if maybe she hadn't laughed so hard at him, if maybe she had made him mad. But then he turned his face to her and she saw he was grinning.

"I saw that in a picture in a book once, and I've always wanted to do it," he told her, sitting down again. Now they were just sitting in chairs facing each other, no table between them.

"Well, next time you have an urge to do something completely violent like that, I would appreciate it if I wasn't around," Ginny snapped, though she was desperately trying to keep from smiling.

"Violent?" he repeated.

"Oh, flying tables and tiny chess pieces that could poke my eye out isn't violence?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"No. You should live in my house on a day my dad's in a bad mood; then you'll see real violence." He spoke lightly, but there was a hint of bitterness beneath his tone. He stared out the window beside him, which wasn't made of particularly clear glass. The scene outside was contorted to the point where Ginny could only see white and brown blurbs - she guessed the white was the snow, and the brown blurbs where the trees.

"I would prefer not to live with your happy family, thank you," Ginny said, gazing out as well. She felt his eyes on her, but did not look at him.

"Neither would I, to tell you the truth," he said after a moment. "I would've gotten my own flat the minute I graduated from Hogwarts if my father hadn't made me remain at home."

Ginny had to glance at him. He met her eyes steadily. "Why did he make you stay?"

"Don't tell me you don't know what my father is - or, should I say - was," said Draco, one eyebrow raised and one lowered. "I thought all Gryffindors knew."

"Knew that your father was a Death Eater?" she asked, and nodded. "Yes, everyone knows. I'll be damned if I know how your father wasn't put in Azkaban after You-Know-Who's death, though."

"Not enough evidence," Draco said with a knowing smirk. "Direct quote from the wonderful Minister of Magic, Cornelious Fudge. Every other Minister in the world thought my father was guilty, including the Secretary of Magic in America, and you know how Americans could've cared less about the entire issue of Voldemort, and that he should be locked away. They thought that my dad was one the most powerful Death Eaters, and if not jailed, might take Voldemort's place."

Ginny stared at him intently. What had come over him to suddenly spill the status on his father? And he was speaking as if he hated Lucius Malfoy. She had always thought he worshipped the ground his dad walked on. Apparantly she was mistaken.

"That he would take the Dark Lord's place is just stupid, because Father is one of those types who follow orders easily, not the type who can handle making his own orders," Draco continued, scratching the back of his head. "Fudge just likes my father, I think - either that, or Father bribed him. It's probably the latter."

Ginny waited for him to go on, and after several moments passed, she realized his speech was over. "How does that relate with having to stay home after Hogwarts?" she said to him.

"He wants to teach me the ways of Dark Magic, I'm guessing," Draco said with a shrug, like it was no big deal. "He hasn't forced me to do anything yet, but I know he'll chain me to the house if I try to leave."

"Your dad sounds really disturbed to me, Draco," Ginny told him, wrinkling her nose.

"Now you know where I got it from." He was obviously trying to make light of the situation, but he was avoiding her eyes, and she could tell he was a little upset by it.

For the first time ever, Ginny actually pitied him. She actually understood why he was so cold and mean to everyone. He had never had the sort of role model to _be_ a nice person.

_This world is definitely doing things to my mind_, she thought, returning her eyes to the window. _First I snog Draco, then I enjoy playing chess with him. Now I actually _understand_ him?_

She was going to need therapy when she returned home, that was for sure.

* * *

_Notes on the chapter_: There really was no Robertian Theater. It was called Elizabethan Theater, because it was constructed when Elizabeth I reigned (until 1603). I just named it after Ginny's father, the current ruler in this fic. 

The Burbage brothers were three popular actors back in this day; I have no clue if they ever performed _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. I'm totally making that part up, but they were actors. 

Shakespeare is real – _duh_ – as is his play. _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ was published in 1600, and I'm guessing it was performed many times in the Elizabethan (or, in my case, the Robertian) Theater because Shakespeare was popular during his time – again, _duh._

Whitehall Palace existed in this time; I read it in one of those _Royal Dairies _books, the one on Elizabeth I. I'm not sure where it is located, but it was standing in 1544 – I'm making the assumption that it was there in 1607, too. 

French cards were known to have pictures of king and knaves that were particular menacing. And though I searched for a while, I could not find any explanation of how to play Trump during this time. Sorry! 

I am just assuming that the American Minister of Magic is called a Secretary, because here we have the Secretary of Defense or Secretary of Treasury, while in Europe there are all Ministers of Defense and Treasury. So that is just my guess. 

A/N: Okay, once again I apologize for what seems like a boring, unexciting chapter. And actually, it is. But some significant things happened here, which should hint for upcoming chapters.

Next chapter: They go to the play, Ginny has a run in with Tom, and most likely, a heated snog. Or three. 8^D

I was completely overwhelmed by the reviews I got last chapter. Wow! I got over a hundred! 

But I'm sorry that I don't have time to individually reply, but if you have a question from last chapter that just HAS to be answered, then email me. 

Thanks to:

**Wmlaw****, Nathalie, Dark-angel, Asanya, Black ice, Roseann-Riddle, Trixie, Sizarie, Tiamat738393, RedFeather, tanuki-chan, Korinna Myorin, charismatic, Serengeti, Fernanda, wilmajik, Evil*Fairy, Cassondra, ~*Crystal Lily*~, sOmEoNeSpEcIaL, Dilandra, Demeter, Amanda Mancini, NicoleTheNiveter, Grammar Queen, Nice, VioletJersey, ~*TigerLily*~, krissy, Infinite Enchantress, ADaRen, Sonnie, Katrina Anne Crane, lala, Shooting Jewel, Midnight, Julie B., chaos, FireSprite, LittleNymph, hpangel, Kristen, Chantico, chaos-frack, VirtualFaerie, lily Malfoy, alexpotter, Calendar, Ellie, Mint, Swim Angel, Maddy, Princess Luna, AngelStar88, Lyn, Gryffingirl, Escritora, audig, Quinn, Bella, Athena Lionfire16, Rose Tangle, Malfoy's MunchkinElf, asterael, ChildLikeTendencies, (), Static, meg, SwedishGirl, God of Fire, Lauren, Pandora, Ta Dot, iluvoliverwood, Kat Riddle, fallen pheniox, AllieDumbledore, Cassandra Anthemyst, Gr8Sk8er, I luv Draco, devilfromhell, pink princess, Tangerine Caprigrrl, smiley, TheGirlWhoLived, Crazycutee831, Sam-chan, Archer, Seshat, Chocagirl23, Issa, Jive, Figaro, Rach*, Ruby Schnopps, Ceres aka Aya, JCM, Eiez, littlebit, lupe silverwing, Lynliss, Sea Chelle, Parselmouth, Brie, Silverfish, me, angel15, Marin, Wellduh, ****Sizarie****, xoDevonnyxo, Lil' Angel, Emerald Quill (or her sister ;))****, Spazzy, and ****szaranea****.__**

And lastly, Elaine (aka TheGirlWhoLived) for beta'ing this chapter. 

I'm sorry it took me a dreadfully long time for this chapter to get out, but since the next one will be more exciting, expect it a bit sooner. 

Hope I didn't miss anyone in my thank yous! 


	13. The Play

A/N: Okay, so maybe I didn't get this chapter out so fast; I'm sorry. It took me a bit longer than I'd anticipated.

Thanks to Tia who beta'd this, and to Elaine who made sure it sounded British enough ;)

Also, I moved the rating down, only because it's really been rated incorrectly the entire time.

**Chapter Eleven**

_The Play_

Over the next twenty-four hours, Ginny and Draco played exactly twenty-two games of chess, thirty rounds of cards, learned from Elle how to play dice, and then played eleven games of it.

Draco only won a single game of dice, but as Ginny had whispered something into Elle's ear, he had a sneaking suspicion that they'd let him win.

It didn't matter much, though. At least he wasn't being driven out of his mind with boredom.

"I long for summer," said Elle once, sadly. "So we can go and play outside. But winter has barely started."

_I hope to be away from here by summer_, Draco thought, yet only sneered, keeping it to himself.

After lunch - or what Elle called supper - Ginny's servant appeared and whisked her off to her room, claiming she needed to get ready for the play. Draco had entirely forgotten about it and wondered if he had to change, too.

Changing clothes had to be his least favorite activity of this time, which was saying a lot, because there was a great amount of things he thought boring and dull. Games included - if it weren't for his constant loosing and becoming angry and annoyed, he would be bored just about to tears. Then again if he won all the time that, too, would not be exciting in the least.

When he reached his room, Timothy was there waiting for him. The servant attempted a thin, wavering smile as Draco approached him. "What would you like to wear to the theater, Your Highness?" Though his voice was shaky, he didn't stutter once. Draco was tempted to give him a congratulatory pat on the back.

"I'll just wear what I'm already wearing," he replied.

Timothy looked him up and down, the look in his eyes clearly expressing disapproval - it was the most defiance Draco had seen in the spineless kid - but he said nothing. "As you say, Highness. The carriage departs in an hour; I sh-shall call you when it is time."

"Thanks," said Draco, watching Timothy turn and scurry down the hall.

Draco walked into the nearest room for no particular reason, already wondering what he'd do for the next hour. He glanced around quickly, noting that this room must not have been used much by royalty, because it was not lavishly furnished. The walls were bare, with only square columns attached and slightly jutting out; there was only a thin rug on the floor, no fireplace, a weak, tattered-looking sofa and sitting chair, and a table against the wall.

He turned and started to leave when something caught his eye. There was a long, dark tapestry hanging in one of the corners, between a square column and the wall beside it. Draco squinted at it, saw blurred shapes painted on it, but couldn't distinguish them without more light. The sunlight straining through the dirty window was weak.

He went back into the hall glanced around and saw a silver candelabra placed on a table against the wall. This corridor was definitely nicer than some of those he'd seen, instead of crude torches on the wall, there were candles on various tables. The queen's room must be around somewhere, Draco figured, smirking to himself, and grabbing the candelabra.

He felt silly holding it, and was slightly worried he'd drop it, because it was heavy. Stepping back into the cold, blank room, he turned towards the tapestry holding the candles up so he could see well. Tilting his head slightly he narrowed his eyes, wondering who in their sane mind would weave such a scene.

It was a scene of blood and gore; of horror and death. Several goblin-like creatures with long nails, big feet, huge fangs, and dark crimson eyes snarled at the humans. The people, who were mostly women and children, had their mouths open in silent screams, their terrified expressions visible even in the roughly sewn picture. Some of the creatures were digging their fingers into the few men and numerous women's necks, or had scratched the length of their faces. One was even cutting deep into a woman's protruding, obviously pregnant, belly.

"These people need to find new hobbies," Draco said under his breath, staring at the pictures for a moment longer.

Without even thinking much about it, he used his free hand to pull the tapestry aside. Expecting to see a wall, or maybe even a passage of some sort, he was surprised to see a chair.

"Chair?" he actually said out loud, confused. There was a nook in the wall, which recessed only a couple feet, and was just wide enough to place a high-backed, dark-green velvet chair. With the tapestry in place, the little space was invisible.

It was an odd place for someone to sit, because if they did the tapestry would bump their knees. Was this just a hiding place for the chair, maybe? Or was it of some importance?

Draco sighed and let go of the drapery, letting it fall back into place. Turning, he headed from the room, telling himself that it really wasn't that necessary to know why the armchair was in such a weird place. It didn't matter in the least.

But why was it hidden behind such a vicious looking tapestry?

Ginny felt like she was about to die. Maria had tightened her corset what seemed some twenty times tighter than normal. When she'd complained about how she couldn't breathe, the maid had said simply, "You are going to be seen out in public, Highness. You need to look fashionable."

"So you'd rather have me faint in public, in front of all those people, just so I can have an insanely . . . unhealthy . . . skinny . . . waist?" Ginny retorted through gasps.

"Oh, Highness," was the only reply she got.

In the carriage on the way to the theater (there were three other carriages for her escorts, so she didn't worry about being attacked) she sat stiffly and shifted a lot. Draco, who sat across from her as they were the only two in the carriage, noticed and gave her a crooked smirk. "Knickers riding up your arse, Ginny?" he asked.

She shot him a death look. "Shut up, Draco."

The ride took about twenty minutes - twenty minutes of pure torture to Ginny's poor sides and abdomen. When she got back to her own time, she'd be some sort of medical miracle; all her organs would be pushed around in weird places inside her.

"So are we the only ones going to this thing?" Draco asked to break the silence.

Ginny tried to reach through the layers of her clothes and pry her finger down into the top of her corset, near her armpit, to loosen it slightly. It did not work. "Well, I know Maria came, but she's in another carriage," she said, glancing down. The high collar only itched her neck more. "Why didn't Elle come?"

"She wasn't invited, was she?" Draco shot back; giving her an expression that said the reason was obvious.

Ginny rolled her eyes. Then she looked down again, once more occupied with her damned corset. She tried to tug on the front of it, above her breasts, and gave a loud sigh. "My boobs are secure. They aren't going to move at all tonight, that's for sure," she said.

"Like me to loosen something there for you?" Draco asked innocently.

"Bugger off," Ginny snapped.

The carriage finally pulled to a stop, and someone outside opened the door. A young man stood like a statue beside the door. For a moment Ginny was unsure of what to do, and Draco went ahead and got out himself. As she started to stand up, the man offered his hand and she used him for balance in her heavy skirts as she dropped out ungracefully.

They were right near the entrance of the theater, and already there was a crowd waiting to get inside. Everyone seemed to hush when Ginny stepped out, and she felt all eyes on her. She blushed hotly, aware that her jumping from the carriage was definitely not something that someone of her position would do.

"Need an arm, Your Highness?"

Ginny jerked her head at the familiar voice, seeing that Tom Riddle had appeared at her side from nowhere. Her breath caught in her throat, and her blood froze instantly. His beautiful eyes locked with hers, and she shivered involuntarily.

_Oh no_, she thought. _What's he doing here? I refuse to have him here!_

What could she do, though? While she stood there like an idiot, gaping, he took her silence as yes and grinned, tucking her hand around his arm. His touch was warm, human, very unlike when he was touching her while she lay hot and sickly in bed. The heat of him seemed to snap her out of her frightened state, and she glanced over at Draco. He stood facing them, on Ginny's other side, and he was staring at Tom with an unreadable expression and slightly narrowed eyes.

"Your Highness?" Tom asked, giving her a funny look. "Shall we proceed?" He gestured to the theater.

Ginny took a deep breath and snatched her arm from his, hurriedly thinking of an excuse. "Actually," she said smoothly, even able to turn the corner of her mouth up into what resembled a smile, "I already promised Draco he would escort me in. Right, Draco?"

She didn't wait for his answer; she grabbed his arm and started walking as quickly as she could. There was a thin walkway between the crowds that they managed to maneuver, entering the theater before any of them.

Inside the plain looking lobby, she spotted Francis, who saw her and grinned. He waved them over.

"Who's that?" Draco whispered.

"Francis. A Lieutenant. My mother has a sort of crush on him --"

"Who's the ugly girl next to him?"

Ginny glanced to Francis' side, and as they walked over, had to congratulate Draco's description of who had to be Elsabeth. She was ugly. There wasn't really one thing Ginny could pinpoint that made the poor girl so hideous. She couldn't say it was her nose, even though it was a bit on the big side. And she couldn't say it was her eyes, which were such a pale blue they looked freakish against her even paler skin. It wasn't exactly her thin lips, either. There was just an essence she had that reeked ugliness.

It didn't do her any good that she looked as though she hadn't bathed in a year, either. Her stringy hair that must have once been blonde hung limply around her white cheeks.

Ginny had a sneaking suspicion she wasn't wearing a corset either, even though her waist looked slimmer than Ginny's felt.

"Your Highnesses," Francis said, smiling widely as they reached him. He focused his eyes on Draco. "You do remember my lovely daughter, Elsabeth, don't you?"

Draco gave Elsabeth a tight-lipped smile. "Of course I do," he said falsely.

She gave him a brief, unsure smile, revealing her yellowed teeth. She seemed so timid and sweet; Ginny was tempted to smack Draco for being rude.

"We are going to go in first," Francis announced, glancing over Ginny's shoulder. She turned and saw that nearly all her escorts had come in, Tom and Maria included. She suppressed a groan; the Queen had insisted the castle's regiment accompany Ginny to the play.

A man who must've owned the theater led them up to their box, which had three rows of about seven seats. The theater itself was rather plain actually, the only color being the red velvet seats. The stage looked bare with a dark curtain, drawn.

Ginny was sure she was not sitting anywhere near Tom. She ended up sitting in the first row, between Francis and Elsabeth; Elsabeth was on the very end. Draco sat on the other side of Francis, and Tom sat beside him. The rest of Ginny's escort waited out in the hall, because they had not been invited to view the play.

Ginny was tempted to insist Maria stay, but the maid disappeared before she could say anything.

She was planning to sit in silence and watch the theater fill up, but Elsabeth leaned over and said quietly, "Have you not yet let go that wicked maid?" Her voice was quiet, whispery.

Ginny looked at her, her eyebrows knitted together in surprise. "You mean Maria?" she asked. "Let her go?"

"Of course, your decision it is, Your Highness," Elsabeth said hastily, attempting a watery smile. Then she turned and faced forward again, leaving Ginny puzzled as to her meaning.

Before she could dwell on it, several other people came into the box, and greeted her. They all bowed, or curtsied, the men told her how breathtaking she looked, and the women declared how wonderful her dress was. Ginny had not the slightest idea who any of them were, but smiled and nodded at them, Elsabeth's odd statement now pushed from her conscious mind.

Up until the performance started, trails of High Society came to Ginny, and after they saw her, they walked down the line to speak with Draco. At one point she caught his eye, and he lifted his brow briefly in an expression of boredom, causing her to smile.

At last, everyone had left. Or, rather, those who remained had sat down in the other seats in the box and were no longer bothering Ginny. Sighing in relief, she tried to sink back in her chair, only to be pinched by her underclothes. She straightened once again.

It came as a surprise when the curtain suddenly rose, and a hush of silence rippled through the theater. Ginny had been expecting the candles to be blown out, but when the first scene began, all the candles were still burning. Must be because there isn't enough light on the stage, she figured.

That wasn't the only thing that was unexpected. She'd been anticipating grand costumes, and elaborate sets, for no reason other than if Shakespeare himself was running this performance; he probably wanted nothing but the best for his play. But the outfits the actors wore looked common, not even as fine as what Ginny herself was wearing. The background was rather plain, with no props.

Confused, Ginny wondered if maybe this wouldn't be such a grand affair after all.

But the first lines of the play proved that she was mistaken.

_"Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour_

_Draws on apace: four happy days bring in_

_Another moon; but O! methinks how slow_

_This old moon wanes; she lingers my desires,_

_Like to a step-dame, or a dowager_

Long withering out a young man's revenue."

The actor spoke with such feeling, and used such emotion that Ginny realized instantly the show would be absolutely stunning. She was mesmerized in only a few moments.

But no matter how wonderful it was she was not comfortable. Having to sit still for such a long time was killing her. She would have to get up soon and go for a walk, and she knew it.

The scene changes were subtle, without the aid of a curtain, yet Ginny understood what was happening. She was very surprised at the professionalism of everyone who helped with the performance. She didn't think people during this time were serious about acting. Obviously, she was wrong.

Finally, towards the end of the first scene of the third act, Ginny could stand it no longer. She leaned over and whispered to Francis, "I need to get some air," and stood up, forcing herself to be graceful. Then she swept out of the box, feeling the eyes of some of the others sitting nearby upon her. Well, those women were used to corsets; they'd just have to accept that she wasn't.

Even in the deserted lobby, she could hear Titania saying from the theater, _"Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower . . ."_

Ginny paced a bit, using her hands to try and shift the corset around. Nothing seemed to work. She couldn't get any relief from her bloody clothes. The minute she got back to her castle, she decided, she'd rip everything off and sleep naked. Right then she'd give her right arm just to be able to wear jeans and a T-shirt.

"Is there anything wrong, Your Highness?" asked somebody behind her.

Ginny jumped and spun around. It was Tom. She hadn't heard him enter the lobby. Quickly, she glanced around, praying there was someone else nearby. There wasn't. She was alone with him, and that feeling did not settle well in her stomach. It bubbled unpleasantly, only aggravating her comfort level.

"Why are you out here?" she asked hurriedly, looking over his shoulder. He was coming from the one direction she could run to be near people, where he wouldn't hurt her; it was either dodge by him or turn and run out of the theater. If she chose the latter, he'd chase after her and win.

"You looked a bit pale when you left the box," he said, his entire face creased into a smile. She couldn't tell if she liked the way he was staring at her or not. "I came to see if you are all right."

"I'm fine," she told him, very fast. "You can go. I just wanted to stretch my legs."

"You fear me." It wasn't a question, or a statement. It was a fact, and he knew it. "Why?"

She met his eyes, this time willing herself not to look away. She strengthened her chin and replied firmly, "Do you really need to ask?"

"Yes."

Ginny sucked in a breath. His smile had faded; he looked serious. Though if he was angry, he didn't show it. "You're a murderer."

She expected him to deny it. She expected his face to wrinkle in concern and surprise, for his beautiful eyes to widen and radiate hurt. But instead, he did exactly as she should've thought he would.

He smiled. A chilling smile, its icy grip seemed to be reaching her bones. Crossing his arms, his spidery fingers splayed over his black-sleeved arms, he took a step forward. Involuntarily, she stepped back.

"You're not stupid, are you, Ginny?" he asked softly, his voice caressing her dangerously. It caused the little hairs on the back of her neck to prick up. He took another step towards her. "You recognized me the moment you saw me."

She tried to swallow and failed. Her mind was having trouble thinking rational thoughts, much less speaking them. Instead, she fumbled backwards until her back hit a wall. Then she found she could not command her legs to move at all.

"You know what I am," he said slowly, his smile fading. "That you don't belong here -- that _I_ don't belong here either."

He didn't stop walking until he stood right before her, his gaze trapping hers. She couldn't look, couldn't move away even though she desperately wanted to. He was casting some sort of spell on her, keeping her bewitched, and she didn't know how to stop it.

She managed to swallow, and found her voice as well. "You brought us here," she said, proud of her steady, sharp tone.

"Yes." A faint grin crossed his features.

"How? In our -- in my time, you're dead. Both forms of you." Ginny tried to melt into the wall, to disappear. She didn't succeed.

"I'll tell you everything," he murmured, taking one final step and closing all space between them. His body against hers was warm, but terrifying. She was repulsed by him, wanted him away from her, but he now had her pinned. Now she regretted letting herself be backed up to the wall. Why was she acting so stupid? "I'll tell you everything," repeated Tom, and then added, "but not yet."

She was having trouble breathing. She commanded herself to relax, and think of a way out of this. If she let him make her frightened every time she saw him or was near him, he would dominate her. He would control her. She couldn't allow that. She had to show him that he didn't scare her.

Even if he did.

"Why not now?" she whispered, but firmly. She quickly ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. "It's as good a time as any, don't you reckon?"

"You'll miss the play," he replied in a velvety soft voice. His eyes now held a hungry look in them, and it only caused her heart to thud harder in fear.

"It doesn't matter," she said, slowly bringing her hands up. She placed her palms on his chest, and when she did, he grinned at her. "So step back and tell me -- why did you bring Draco and me here?"

As she started to push him away, his own hands snapped up and he wrapped his fingers around her wrists. She let out a cry of shock as he gripped them hard, his face suddenly full of fury. He pulled her palms away from him and slammed them against the wall, her wrists parallel with her shoulders. Terror filled her again, and she forced herself not to show it. It took most of her strength to keep a calm face, even though she was positive her eyes gave away how she really felt.

"There is one thing you've got to learn about me, Ginny," he said venomously. He suddenly reminded her of a snake, his eyes narrowed and tinted red with anger. "You don't tell me what _you_ want me to do. That's what annoys me greatest, Ginny, and you don't want to annoy me."

"You're hurting me," she said quietly.

And then he was grinning again, madly, with his eyes still slightly red. He leaned his face beside hers and drawled in her ear, "I haven't hurt you nearly enough."

By the time he met her gaze she had summoned her anger, and was glaring at him. _Don't let him see your fear,_ she instructed herself. "If you don't release me this instant," she told him viciously, "I'll scream. And no high opinion of my mother will save you from your fate if you're found harming a _princess_."

He only smiled, almost serenely, at her. "Don't you understand, Ginny?" he asked softly. "I _own_ this world. It does not exist. I created it. I can control it, and because of that, I'm more powerful than your mother."

Ginny swallowed thickly at that, unsure of how to answer. She forgot to disguise her fright . . . and then, she thought of something. "If you created it," she began shakily, "then why did you include --"

"Ginny," said another very familiar voice.

Draco.

Tom dropped her wrists, stepped away from her swiftly, and turned casually. Draco crossed the lobby, with his usual stride, and had a sober expression on his face. He stopped beside Tom. "Having fun?" he asked darkly.

Ginny had never been so happy to see him in her life. Instantly she forgot about asking Tom why he'd included Dumbledore in this world if he'd created it, and hurried to Draco's side. "I found who brought us here, Draco," she said, feeling much safer now that he was there.

Draco eyed Tom, who smirked at him. He announced smoothly, "If you will excuse me, I am missing the performance." Without another word or glance he swept by them and left the lobby, and Ginny's fear flew out the door with him.

"Once again, you've managed to come at a good time, but I still could've used you a few minutes earlier," Ginny said to Draco.

"What was he doing?" he asked.

"Just threatening me. Admitting he was a killer, and to bringing us here," she said with a shrug as if it were no big deal. "He said he made this world."

Draco nodded, before he, too, thought of Dumbledore. "So if he made it, then why is Dumbledore here?"

"I was about to ask him that," said Ginny, "but you interrupted us."

He smirked. "Next time I'll be sure to let you finish your conversation," he sneered.

She chose to ignore him. "If he put Dumbledore here, then that must mean that we can't trust him."

"Can't trust Dumbledore?"

"Well, do you think Tom would put a _good_ Dumbledore in this world, one that could help us?" she inquired. "He's obviously trying to make everyone in this time against us. Harry, my parents . . . and he was probably the one who had Alexandria move. And then made all the townspeople forget about her ever being there."

"I just don't understand why he'd do that," Draco said.

"Neither do I," she admitted. "He didn't explain it."

"Before we leave this place, he will," Draco swore.

"But . . ." Ginny bit her lower lip, her thoughts depressing her. "If he runs this world, there's no way we can leave. Not without his help, at least. And he brought the both of us here for a reason. Do you really reckon he'd let us go to our own time just because we wanted to?"

Draco stared at her, knowing she was right. "We'll find a way," he said.

Ginny reluctantly nodded, though she wasn't very reassured. It wasn't until they were walking back to their box that she realized heâ₢¢d said, _"We'll find a way"_. He'd finally figured that he'd have to help her get out of this world.

Even though now she was not sure if the both of them combined could get themselves out.

Once Draco returned to his seat, he glared at Tom, received only ignorance in return and found he couldn't enjoy the performance. His mind was racing with thoughts, uneasy ones that made him uncomfortable.

Ginny had a point. If Tom had created this world, there was no way they could leave. He had brought them, the only two who knew they were from the future, for some reason. Most likely, it wasn't a good one. Probably one that was evil and would end up having the entire world as Slaves For Riddle.

After what seemed like hours, the play finally ended. The applause was deafening, and lasted for several minutes. Draco remained in his seat while everyone around him stood up, even Ginny, though her face was shadowed, indicating her mind was not on how wonderful the performance had been.

Finally, it was time to leave. Draco rose, only to find that several more important people were coming to say farewell. For another five minutes he frowned and said goodbye to just about everyone who bowed to him.

"Come, Your Highness," Francis grinned at Ginny, gesturing her to leave the box before him. "Mr. Shakespeare would like to meet you, if you have the time."

"No, she doesn't," snapped Draco, eager to leave. For some reason, he didn't like Tom anywhere near her. It made him edgy.

Ginny clenched her jaw together and fired a look at Draco, clearly telling him to shut up. Then she gave Francis a very forced smile. "Sure," she told him. "But let's make it quick."

So Draco followed Ginny, Francis, his ugly daughter, and a couple of escorts back stage. Draco searched around for the man he'd seen in drawings, wearing grand clothes and brown hair. However, the person who walked to Ginny was tall, skinny, and old. His hair was pure white, and his clothes were actually a bit ratty, as if he hadn't changed in a couple of days.

But the minute he saw Ginny, he dropped to one knee and held out a hand. She started at him for a moment, before giving him her fingers to kiss, turning red.

"Your Highness, I am glad you have come this evening," he said, and got to his feet. He spotted Draco and bowed deeply. "As you well," he added.

Draco nodded once to show he'd heard him. Only Shakespeare would say something like, _As you well_.

"Would you like a tour of the theater?" he asked politely.

Ginny looked uncertain, and Draco tried to catch her eye and shake his head to tell her to say no, but she didn't glance back at him.

However, she managed to find it in her to live up to her snobby reputation and declined - though she did it kindly. "Actually, I'm really tired. May I take a rain check?"

Shakespeare raised his eyebrows, clearly not understanding what she meant. Ginny turned an even deeper red, and quickly added, "I'll come by some time after the wedding."

"Very good, Your Highness." His tiny, but warm, smile returned, and he bowed one final time. Then Francis took Ginny by the elbow, completely ignoring his daughter, and led her out of the theater.

Ginny couldn't sleep. She lay in bed, wrapped snugly in her many covers, the wood smoldering in the fireplace. But her mind was racing with what Tom had told her.

What could she do about him and their situation? Nothing? Was she just going to allow herself to give up and accept that there wasn't anything she or Draco could possibly do?

_There has to be something_, she argued in her mind. _There must be some way._

And what if Dumbledore _wasn't_ evil? Would that make any sense? Tom purposely putting him in this world to make it easier for her? No, it didnâ₢¢t make sense. There was only one thing that was to be concluded, and that was Dumbledore wouldn't help them. Besides, how would she know to trust him or not? She wouldn't; there was no way she could be absolutely sure if he would be on her side. She just couldnâ₢¢t get help from him.

Ginny sat up, sighing. She was feeling restless, and a bit smothered. Throwing the blankets off, she reached for her dressing robe and a pair of what she thought was the equivalent of slippers and put them on. Then she stepped out into the silent, chilly hall.

It was so dark, quiet and still that Ginny just about had a heart attack and died when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Managing to keep her scream locked in her throat, she spun around, only to see the reassuring face of Maria.

"Child, what are you doing up at this hour?" she whispered.

Ginny looked her from head to toe, placing a hand over her heart to try and slow its beating. Maria was still dressed in her day clothes. "I couldn't sleep. Do you _ever_ sleep?" She was a bit breathless from the scare.

Even in the pale light, she saw Maria smile. "There is no time for sleep, Highness. I am still preparing for the wedding and it is a lot of work."

Ginny felt a surge of anger at her mother for working her servants so hard. She placed a hand on Maria's shoulder. "Go to bed, Maria," she ordered gently. "I don't care about the wedding very much anyway."

"You say that now, but if everything is not perfect on Christmas, you shall regret what you told me," she insisted.

"Just retire for the night, okay?" Ginny asked, wrapped her dressing robe around her tighter. "I'm just going to go for a short walk before I go back to bed, too."

"All right, Your Highness. But you should get some sleep as well, you know. You still need to regain your strength from that sickness you had."

"Yes, Maria," said Ginny, smiling her goodbye before she turned and left.

Ginny already knew that she was heading outside, but when she entered the main hall, she saw that several men were guarding the door. Frowning, she turned and tried to find another exit, thinking there had to be one in the kitchen or nearby.

The kitchen was dark and deserted, this time Ginny was sure; she didn't want to have Draco pop out of nowhere again and fall on top of her. Well, the falling-on-top part wouldn't be so bad, but she'd already nearly wet her knickers when Maria tapped her on the shoulder, and having someone jump out of nowhere would definitely do the trick.

Just as she'd thought, there was a door leading outside in the kitchen, and it was unguarded.

She slipped out into the cold, calm night, shivering as soon as the air slapped against her cheeks.

Walking away from the castle, crunching over the now ice-hard snow, she looked up at the sky. It was clear, with a million stars sparkling like diamonds in the black velvet. Here, there were no Muggle lights to drown out the beauty of the night. Despite the low temperature, Ginny smiled and enjoyed the tranquility of the world.

She stopped near the edge of the garden, sitting down on a stone bench. More thoughts filled her head, ranging from the thrilling thought of meeting Shakespeare to the terrifying one that she and Draco may never be able to return to their time.

What would she do if she _were_ forced to stay? Would she marry Draco and raise kids and rule the country just like she was supposed to? And always know that Tom was nearby and could do whatever he wanted to her life?

Or would she run away? Leave every responsibility she would have if she married, and try to hide from Tom? _That's not possible_, she realized. _If Tom controls this world, he'll be able to find me. Easily._

She sighed deeply, wondering why everything was suddenly so complicated for her. Every solution she thought up wouldn't work. She was stuck and didn't know how to free herself.

"You'll catch pneumonia again if you stay out here, you know."

Ginny jumped at Draco's voice, turning her head to see him emerge from the shadows of the castle. He was still dressed, his expression blank, and his breath coming out in clouds. He stopped in front of her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I just needed to think," she told him, glancing down at her fingers in her lap. She picked at her nails. "It's nice out here."

"It's freezing out here," he corrected, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Then he changed the subject. "What were you thinking about?"

"What I always think about," she replied automatically.

"Harry?" In the starlight she saw him smirking.

"No," she snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. "I am thinking of how to get out of here."

"First maybe we should figure out what Riddle wants us here for in the first place," said Draco wisely.

"Okay. Go and ask him," she said, not intending to sound so sharp.

"He seems to like you better," he sneered.

She glared before softening her gaze and sighing. "This is so _hopeless_. Do you have any ideas of how the hell to get out of here?"

"None."

"You boast about how Slytherins always come up with the best plans. So why can't you?"

"I lied," he replied smoothly. "The Ravenclaws are the clever ones."

"Oh, that really helps our situation," she mumbled, resting her elbow on her thigh and dropping her chin into her hand. "Are you even _trying_ to think of some way?"

"No, I want to stay here," he said, and she glanced up at him, only to find him smirking. "Of course I've _tried_. But I can't think of anything more than you can."

She sighed again and stood up, meeting his eyes. "We'll just have to keep thinking," she said with a shrug. "I don't know about you, but I'm not going to stay in this world and let us be married."

An emotion flashed through his depthless gray eyes, but it flickered by so quickly she couldn't grasp what it was. In a moment it was gone, replaced by his usual expressionless glance. "I couldn't agree more," he told her effortlessly.

She realized then how close they really were; their bodies only inches apart. Her heart began to race, and she flushed, feeling chills on her skin. Why did he have to be so damn gorgeous? Why couldn't she get the thought of his lips out of her mind?

"I mean," she began breathlessly, "even if we do get married, it's not like it'll count in the future. Some day we'll _have_ to get back, you know, and if we get married here, we won't necessarily be married now. Or four hundred years from now." She was well aware she was rambling, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she kept on talking just to fill the silence. "I always told myself I wouldn't get married before I was twenty, or twenty-five, and seventeen is _not_ the age I even _considered_ when I was thinking about --"

"Ginny, will you shut up?" He was smirking at her; silently mocking her.

"Okay," she breathed, and kissed him.

At first it was slow, and warm, and wonderful. She hadn't forgotten what it was like to be kissed by him, hadn't forgotten the familiar knee-weakening feel she got when she was pressed against him. She thought hazily to herself, _This is how I want to be kissed for the rest of my life. _

His hands went to her shoulders, his fingers tangled in her hair. As the kiss deepened, she placed her palms on his cheeks as if to hold him to her, before she slid her arms around his neck and held him close. She never wanted him to stop, never wanted to let him go, but he pulled away suddenly. The abruptness sliced through her like a knife, as if reminding her how carried away she was getting.

"I thought you told me not to do this," he whispered, his breath on her cheek. His eyes bore into hers. They were dark and questioning.

"We _shouldn't_ be doing this," she admitted quietly.

He gave her a tiny lopsided grin. "But you want to." It was a statement.

"Don't you?" Her gaze searched his.

"Let's just think about something," he said, the amusement clear in his eyes. "There's no possible way we can leave here before we get married."

She looked confused. "Yes . . ."

"So if we are to be married, why not practice?" He didn't even wait for her reply. Instead, his mouth was on hers in an instant, his tongue pushing between her lips. The sensation of it removed all thoughts off her mind, and she didn't have a chance to digest what he'd said.

They were so absorbed in each other, so oblivious to all that was around them; they didn't notice somebody staring down at them from a second-story window.

Tom's teeth glittered in the pale light, as though he was smiling, but the look on his face did not resemble happiness. It was almost like mad glee. He let the heavy drapes fall into place, and whispered something to the short, round person who stood beside him.

_"It's working."_

A/.N: Once again, I lied; there was only ONE heated snog. But don't worry, because the next chapter is the big wedding, so expect plenty of snogs then!

Thank you to:

KalyeeCregg (it makes me happy, too, that you're the first to review. Thanks :)), **Kha thi** (snogging is wonderful, isn't it?), **Athena** (You don't know how tempted I am to put a H/G snog in this fic, heh), **Lily Vance **(thanks!), wuwu108 (yes, he definitely is), Emerald (oops, sorry! I'm trying not to make him soft!), **gibson girl** (yeah, I guess it would make an interesting sequel, hmm? I'm glad it's believable!), DracoDomina (Sorry, I have no idea what Trump really is! I just read that they used to play it, so that's what I wrote ;)), **AVK **(lol, don't we all want to see Draco dress?), **Victoria Draco88** (Ben and Jerries _is_ awesome! Thank you!), **Frangelicah **(Good, glad to convert you to D/G-ism), **Amara Potter** (hope this was soon enough!), **chocagirl23** (yeah, I agree, a story can be good without snogs. I mean, we all fell in love with JKR's works, and there are absolutely no snogs there. And I also agree that rushing D/G is NOT good, I try my hardest not to ;) Also, I can't stand writing long chapters! They seem to take me forever, but I do it anyway just because I know everyone loves it), **wild prefect** (ha, more snogs there shall be!), **Divine** (hmm, very interesting conception . . .), Deadly Nightshade (it really is cliched, isn't it?), **Jeheira** (you'll just have to see, won't you? :D), **weirdme030589** (slow is good . . .), **tigergirl stina** (wow, all ten chapters? Must've taken a while! And the reason there hasn't been many murders is because even though a couple of chapters has gone by, it really has been only a matter of a few days. But you're right, compared to the incredible rate at which I was killing them off before, there hasn't been very many lately. But don't worry, I won't take months to update; weeks maybe, but not months), **ElfinKat** (you're actually right, this shouldn't be rated R. That's why I'm going to start rating it PG-13. See, when I began, I thought it was going to be R but then it sort of . . . didn't turn out that way), **little** (glad to amuse you!), **Ayla Pascal** (Yeah, I know that the chapters are out of order on the page that displays them, and I actually have no control over it. Sorry! And I will explain why there here – don't worry!) and **Unregistered** (yes, I am very aware my facts are wrong. However, the reason I made it the Elizabethan Theater called the Robertian Theater is because Elizabeth I never existed in this world and never will exist. And I would appreciate it if in the future you had any comments for me that is not a review to please email me.)

So again, next chapter is the wedding, and we get even more hints as to who the sidekick is (if you couldn't guess already ;))


	14. One Final Murder

Disclaimer: Since I realize I haven't done this in a couple of chapters, here it is. Most characters belong to JKR; the world and Maria and the kings and queen and Elle belong to me. 

A/N: Do forgive me for taking so long. School is out for summer on Wednesday, so expect quicker chapters!

Thanks to Elaine!

**Chapter Fourteen**

**_One Final Murder_**

Draco expected the final week leading up to the wedding would fly by in a blur. He thought his final days of bachelorhood would vanish in the blink of an eye.

Instead, the time went by incredibly slowly.

He almost wished it would speed up. At least the wedding was something to _do. Since he wasn't required to help in any way with the wedding, he had nothing to do while the entire castle was bustling around trying to prepare for it. _

Draco, Ginny, and Elle wore out just about every single game there was to play indoors. A few times he and Ginny had bundled up and went for a walk in the dead gardens. They never spoke, but somehow, he found he enjoyed the strolls, though he would never admit it.

However, it was incredibly cold each day, due to the sun being hidden behind gray clouds. 

It wasn't long before he started to wish the snow would melt, or the temperature would rise, so he could just leave the bloody building. It was beginning to reek in certain places.

He knew why; these people weren't very efficient when it came to cleaning up. Ginny's parents began to have large feasts in the evening, instead of eating with just the few royals. They invited many people into the main hall, where they ate and had music playing and watched fools dance. Draco had managed to talk his father into letting him be absent from the _joyous occasions, but Ginny had been forced to attend. _

On Christmas Eve, the last day before the wedding, the castle was at its busiest. It seemed wherever Draco was he was in the way. Sighing, he went to find Ginny, wondering if maybe she wanted to take a walk with him.

In the past six days he'd sort of developed a way around the large place. He was no longer worried about getting lost. And even better, he knew what rooms Ginny would be in, so he wouldn't have to search around the entire castle to find her.

It took her about ten minutes to get all her clothes on – her maid Maria insisted she dress insanely warmly, because she still might be sick – and when she finally was, she joined Draco outside.

He hadn't kissed her since that late night outside six days before, and he hadn't touched her, either. But there were several times a day when their eyes would meet, and he would have the urge to wrap her in his arms. The feeling startled him; instead of his thoughts on her fading as time went by, they were only growing. It didn't help, of course, that they saw each other almost every moment of everyday, and that she always seemed to make him laugh at least once in her presence. It also didn't help that he couldn't get her kisses out of his mind. 

Nothing seemed to be helping, in fact.

As they trudged wordlessly through the gardens, most of the plants and trees bare branches, Ginny spoke up for the first time.

"We're getting married tomorrow."

He glanced at her, only to see her face expressionless. He was used to her emotions displayed all over her features, but not this time. "I wouldn't really consider it marriage," he said with a shrug, looking straight ahead as they continued to slowly walk. "Once we get back to the future, it won't count."

When she didn't answer, he looked at her again. This time she seemed forlorn, clearly ignoring him even though she was aware he was staring at her.

Something in his chest jerked suddenly, and he stopped. Noticing his footsteps were not in time with hers anymore, she stopped, too, and threw a glance over her shoulder at him. 

Attempting a grin, he said, "Don't look so upset, Ginny. You're going to marry the best looking guy in twentieth century England. Hell, the best looking guy in _any century England. Any normal girl would be whooping for joy."_

She smiled at that, turning fully, though her eyes were still dark. "The fact that there's a very powerful, evil wizard who created the world we're living in kind of puts a damper on my whooping."

That answer stunned him slightly. He had anticipated her to say something along the lines of not wanting to marry him. She hadn't said anything of the sort in the past week. He hadn't, either, come to think of it. He had sort of begun to accept the fact that they couldn't stop the wedding. Or was that really the reason? Maybe he wasn't accepting it – maybe he was beginning to _like it._

_No, he thought fiercely. Even if he did like Ginny, which he couldn't very well deny at the moment, he didn't want to marry her. He had made a vow when he was younger that he wouldn't ever get married, and he wasn't about to break it, despite the hopelessness of the situation._

Right now, though, he had no choice. But in the future, in their normal time, it wouldn't matter. The marriage would be history . . . ancient history. 

Besides, if this world wasn't even real, how could the marriage be real?  

"This is boring," Ginny announced suddenly. "Want to make a snowman?"

"Not particularly," Draco answered automatically, arching an eyebrow in her direction.

She grinned back, all depressing thoughts clearly banished from her mind. Then she bent over and tried to scoop snow from the ground, only to find that her clothes would not allow her to be so flexible. With an oof she dropped into the snow and rolled into a sitting position.

"Damn these bloody dresses," she muttered under her breath. 

Casually, Draco sat beside her, lifting one knee and resting his arm on it. "Maybe if we end up staying here for a while we can teach these idiots a thing or two about comfortable fashion."

She shot him an exasperated look. "I don't hope to be here long enough for it to come to that."

There was a long stretch of silence. Draco was sure Ginny was trying to figure something important out, but as for himself, he wasn't thinking of anything specific. Tilting his head upwards, he glanced at the gray-clouded sky. It smelled like it was going to snow again. Just what the place needed. More snow – 

Something cold and wet hit the side of his face, and he jumped. Ginny began giggling madly. She'd smacked him right in the face with a snowball.

Half upset with himself for letting her get him so easily, he lowered his fingers down and scooped up some snow, glaring at her. Still laughing, she saw what he was doing and turned over to get on her hands and knees to crawl away. She'd gotten nowhere when he grabbed the back of her cloak and pulled her back towards him. With a shriek of laughter she fell across his lap, lifting her hands to try and cover her head.

She was too slow for him. He managed to maneuver around her and mash the snow in her face. She squirmed and struggled while he made rubbed it all over her skin, and she sputtered it out of her mouth. When he was able to see her expression he found she wasn't angry, like he'd thought she would be. Instead, she was grinning, though trying not to.

"Draco! I can't believe you just did that, you bastard!" Before moving, she grabbed a handful of snow, and swiftly sat up. This time he was prepared and managed to throw his body against the ground. When she threw the snowball, it sailed over him and landed a few feet away. 

He glanced at it, smirking, as he lifted himself to sit. "Ha, nice try, Gin –" he began, and turned his head back to face her. He was able just to see her throw back her hand and heave her third snowball, and stopped talking abruptly as it hit him directly in his right eye. 

At first, it was just cold. But as the snow clopped off, the iciness was replaced with a stinging pain. 

Blinking his left eye rapidly, he pressed the heel of his hand to the wounded one, trying to soften the throbbing. Ginny's laughter slowly died down as she noticed he was hurt, and crawled to his side.

"Are you okay, Draco?" she asked, sounding deeply concerned and a bit worried. "I'm so sorry – I didn't mean to hurt you –"

He glared at her with his good eye. "It doesn't hurt; it feels great." She was beginning to bother him with how sincerely sweet she was being. He simply detested sweetness.

She gave him a weary sigh and lifted herself to her knees. She wrapped her warm, gloved fingers around his hand to pull it away from his eye. "Let me have a look, Draco," she ordered gently.

Draco jerked from her grasp, keeping his hand firmly against his hurt eyelid. "Leave me alone, Ginny. Go away."

"Oh, you big baby, just let me see it," she persisted, grabbing his wrist again and calmly peeling his hand off. 

This time he didn't move away, but scowled at her darkly. Pretending not to notice, she placed her palms on his cheeks to hold his head in place and peered at his eye. It was watering – not by choice, for sure, but from his body's natural reaction – and it hurt to open. So he squeezed it shut and continued glowering at her with one eye, which wasn't nearly as effective as two. 

"It's nothing," she told him dismissively, flashing a superior smile. "Ice on the eye is good for it."

"It's probably going to be swollen shut," he muttered through gritted teeth, very aware of her hands still on his face. Trying to ignore it, he wiped his watering closed eye with the back of his own hand. "And it hurts."

She laughed shortly. "I never thought I'd live to hear you admit that you hurt," she told him. 

Instantly she sobered when she realized what a serious thing she had just said. Her merriment vanishing, she sighed again. Leaning her head close, he didn't know what she was doing until she did it. She pressed her lips softly against his pounding eyelid. 

It immediately felt better.

Or maybe it was because he was too busy concentrating on the feel of her mouth than the pain in his eye. 

Either way, it wasn't so painful, and when she slowly pulled her face away and met his gaze, for a moment he wasn't able to speak.

"Better?" she asked, slightly breathless.

He nodded, and pressed his hand on the back of her neck, drawing her face back to his. This time, he made sure her lips met his own. 

Draco had kissed many girls before. And occasionally he felt something other than boredom when he did so, which he thought was something more then, but now realized it was probably just lust. Because kissing Ginny made him feel so indescribable it was obvious that he'd never felt that way before. 

The moment Draco's mouth was on hers, everything bad in the world seemed to disappear into a huge white blur. It was as if being in the strange world didn't matter, and the fact that she wasn't his type of girl didn't matter. _Nothing mattered, except the sensations her touch caused and the feeling of her body pressed firmly against his._

And he knew, deep in the back of his mind, that once he was able to sit and reflect on his feelings, he would mentally slap himself for thinking such mushy, very _not Malfoy thoughts. But now it didn't seem to sink in. Like everything else, it just wasn't significant._

Ginny used a surprising amount of force to push him onto his back on the snow so she was able to lie directly on top of him. The position seemed to bring him back to earth, and he turned his head to break off the kiss. Meeting her clouded dark eyes with a raised brow, he asked, "Why do you get to be on top?"

She grinned as she tugged off one of her hand coverings. With her now bare hand she reached up and twirled a strand of his hair around her forefinger. "Because I'll get sick if I'm on the bottom," she told him. 

His eye was still watering, making parts of her blurry. He quickly rubbed at it to see her better. 

Ginny smiled at him, pulled her finger from his hair, and rested her cheek on his chest. He watched the top of her head rise and fall with his breathing. Why was he feeling so full at that moment?

"What's the first thing you're going to do when you get home, Draco?" she asked, tracing the lining on his cloak. 

He thought a moment. "Probably make myself a decent meal using my wand."

There was a pause before Ginny answered. "I'm going to put on a pair of jeans and a shirt," she said, and he had to smile. "That's the very first thing I'm going to do."

And then they stopped talking. Draco stared up at the cloudy sky, willing his mind to be blank. He didn't want to think about anything then. He would worry later. God knew he'd already worried enough in the past week.

For the first time, Draco felt like nothing in his life was wrong.

Which was exactly the opposite of reality.

* * *

_The wedding.__ The wedding. The wedding._

Ginny's mouth felt like cotton. Her voice croaking, she asked a nearby servant for a glass of water. The girl hurried off to do the order, but even with her absence, there were still too many maids in her room for her to count.

Ginny sat on her bed, her hands clasped in her lap, dressed in her heavy wedding dress. It was white, of course, with a spectacular bodice brocaded with gold thread, making some sort of swirling design. The sleeves were long and poofy, which Ginny had noticed was the style. The skirt had to have been made of layers of silk, and even though she wore a hoop under all the skirts she'd ever had on in this world, the one she was wearing now seemed even bigger. As it normally was, the corset was uncomfortable to the point of pain. But now she had something else to be uncomfortable about – the neckline. It seemed to dip down a _little more than Ginny thought proper for a wedding. _

She'd thought these people were the type who would burn someone alive for wearing such a thing, but apparently, the queen had approved of the dress beforehand, according to Maria. So she shouldn't have been stressing about it.

Still, it wasn't something she'd normally wear.

Her hair was down, but that was about it when it came to her head being anything unusual. They'd powdered her face and put what she assumed was rouge on her cheeks. Other than that, she was just about plain.

At the moment, her body was growing numb with nervousness. The servant returned with her water, but after Ginny drank it quickly, it didn't help much. 

Another ten minutes passed, and she sat, staring at the floor vacantly, wringing her hands in her lap. All around her was chattering of the maids, rushing in and out of the rooms doing various things. The entire castle had been full of activity since dawn – Ginny had woken up before the sun had risen from the feeling of her muscles tensing and had listened to everyone. 

Now the wedding was only an hour away, and she was having difficulty breathing. Despite this, however, her brain was able to focus in and concentrate on _one thing: Draco. _

He was good looking, and considering the way he kissed, would make a good lover . . . but _marriage? Even she wasn't sure she could handle being a wife, and if she couldn't, being raised by a wonderful family, then Draco probably couldn't even be half of a good husband. _

And what about children? At this time in history, people were expected to have children early. Her mother would probably nag her forever to have a child so Ginny would be sure to have an heir. 

But if Ginny struggled with the idea of marriage, she knew she definitely couldn't handle kids. _Definitely._

The minutes trickled by like days. Ginny steadily felt her body getting colder with apprehension. She wondered if people who were in love and _wanted to get married felt like this, if it was what cold feet happened to be. _

Only for her, the iciness seemed to spread through her veins and reach every part of her.

"Come, Your Highness," Maria said, her voice sounding quiet. "It's time to go downstairs."

Nodding, Ginny tried to stand, using Maria's shoulder until she could find use of her legs. Vaguely she wondered why her _mother wasn't there helping her, but then decided the queen was probably too busy getting herself ready to even think of her daughter._

The wedding was taking place in the same place the ball had – in the Great Hall. Ginny had heard Maria call it that and had felt such a wave of longing for Hogwarts she'd almost burst into tears. 

A few minutes later, Ginny was waiting outside the closed doors to the hall, along with a dozen other women. She didn't recognize any of them, but they were wearing nice gowns, not the outfit of the servants, so she guessed maybe they were her bridesmaids. It appeared that there was no flower girl.

"All the guests have arrived and are already in there," Maria whispered to Ginny, dusting off invisible lint from the shoulder of Ginny's dress. She was stating the obvious. She seemed just as nervous as Ginny. "In a few moments they shall be opening the doors. Stay to the side, and allow these other girls to go first."

Ginny found it a bit odd she was being told what to do five minutes before it actually happened. But she nodded anyway. 

"Here, Your Highness." A servant popped up at her side and handed her a bouquet of flowers.

Ginny allowed a tiny smile, marveling at how modern the wedding was. She lifted the bouquet to her nose and sniffed. Smelling rosemary and lavender, she deduced that perhaps it was not made of flowers, but of herbs.

"And you cannot forget this," Maria added, accepting something from a nearby maid and turning so Ginny could see it.

It was a crown – not like the tiara she'd worn at the ball, but a gold, circular, feminine crown. There were several tiny gemstones embedded in it, which she could only assume were real sapphires, rubies, and diamonds. It was pretty, but not as elegant as the tiara.

Maria smiled and placed it on Ginny's head. It felt heavy.

"You look wonderful, Your Highness," Maria said quietly, her warm eyes swelling with tears. "I am so glad this day has come for you."

Ginny was too horrified to even attempt a smile. 

Those final minutes were the worst of all. She felt like she was aging a century every moment that passed. Obeying Maria, she stood to the side out of sight while the bridesmaids went in. There was no music from inside. The quietness did nothing to help her uneasiness. 

The blood was rushing in her head, causing a roar so loud Maria had to nudge her to get her attention. Was it time for her to go already? No, it couldn't be. Once she went in, there was no turning back. Once she stepped in the room, she would be on her way to marriage. 

To _Draco Malfoy._

She was going to be sick. For a horrible second she had visions of walking in there and vomiting all over her beautiful dress. 

Then again, forget being ill. What if she tripped on this horrendous skirt? What if she sprawled to the floor and couldn't get up without help from someone else?

"You shall be fine," Maria said kindly, noticing her absolute terror. 

It did nothing to soothe her. Maria pushed her gently into the doorway. 

She stood there for what seemed like years, but it was only a few seconds. A nice scent reached her nostrils. She couldn't take pleasure in it. Her legs were set in stone.

Maria swatted her behind, though it wasn't very effective due to the huge hoop skirt she was wearing. Still, the message got across, and Ginny commanded her feet to move. 

_Oh God. I'm not doing this. I can't be. This isn't happening . . . I'm dreaming. I'm not here. I'm asleep, somewhere . . . anywhere, just not here. _

She walked incredibly slow. Gasps and sighs and oohs of appreciation for her rose in the crowd. There were no chairs for the guests; they were all standing, and those in the back were craning their necks to catch a glimpse of her. She tried to stare straight ahead, gripping her bouquet to the point of snapping the stems in her fingers, and forced herself to breathe.

Ginny couldn't look at Draco yet. She just couldn't. Moving her head to the side, she took in the Great Hall. Almost every available space was covered in flowers – no, they had to be herbs. In wreaths around the candles, lining the aisle, draped on the stairs leading to the altar. They were all color coordinated, and made the place beautiful and comforting, despite the oddity at having herbs instead of flowers. 

As slowly as time had passed before, it now sped up double. She reached the altar before, it felt, she'd even blinked.

Standing at the bottom of the three steps were the bridesmaids. They smiled at her. 

On the altar at Ginny's right were her parents, looking proud in their own arrogant way, dressed in what had to be their most elaborate clothes. At her left was Draco, his father, and Elle. Elle giggled behind her hand and winked at Ginny, only to receive a reprimanding look from her dad. 

Ginny quickly glanced at Draco. He wore his usual outfit, only in different colors. His tight trousers were red, his doublet gold and red. His cape was also crimson. On his head he wore a bigger crown, with many more jewels than what was on her own. He looked uncomfortable, though she couldn't tell if it was because of what he wore or because of the marriage. Most likely the latter – even _he had to be frightened of this._

In between both families was an elderly man wearing an impressive white robe. Clearly he was the one who was to perform the ceremony.

Ginny realized she had yet to step on the altar. Her mother was shooting her icy glares and her father was giving her a look that indicated he thought she were daft. 

She didn't even have the power to scowl at them. Bunching her skirt in her free hand, she stepped up beside Draco, but avoided his eyes.

The man before them smiled a bit, then opened his book and began reading.

Ginny sucked in a shaky breath, clenching her bouquet between her palms. 

_This is it._

She tried to tell herself it was only marriage, and nothing else. Once everything was normal, back in their normal time, they would ignore it and each other. It didn't count. It couldn't count.

Then why, even if she reminded herself all this, did she feel so absolutely petrified?

* * *

Draco saw the sheen of sweat on Ginny's face and heard her ragged breathing. She was clearly nervous beyond feeling.

Draco was just beyond feeling.

He couldn't even think all that rationally. Every time he tried to form intelligent thoughts it always came back to, _I'm marrying Ginny Weasley. _

What would his father say? His _real father? If he ever found out, Draco would be disowned for certain. Draco was too worried to even realize that his father would never find out, unless he decided to tell him once he got back to the future. He had no intention of doing such. _

But still . . . _Draco would know. If they made it back to the future, he would know he'd gotten married once, even if it was four hundred years back in the past._

He barely heard a word the man in front of him was saying. Was he the Pope? A minister? He had no idea. He didn't care. He tried to concentrate on keeping his face from contorting into an awful grimace. 

Time dragged by. The man presenting the marriage wouldn't stop talking. He droned on in a monotone, causing Draco to just about fall asleep standing. It took a very dull man to cause Draco to want to sleep in the most dreadful time in his life.

Then, he was yanked from his boredom when the man addressed him. "Your Highness, the ring," he said, looking at Draco.

_Ring? Oh damn. No one said anything about a ring. _

Draco stared blankly, trying to think of something to say. For the first time ever in his life, he felt embarrassed. 

Then someone poked his arm. Looking down, Draco saw Elle at his side, holding up a tiny pillow and smiling. On the pillow was a gold band with a large diamond on it.

Draco managed to grin his thanks, and took the ring off the pillow.

He turned met Ginny's eyes. She was unsure of what to do; he could tell by the way her gaze darted nervously from him to the man beside them. Draco decided to just do the only thing he could think of. He reached for her left hand, but before he slipped it on her finger, the man started talking again.

"With this ring, I thee wed," he said.

Draco looked at him with a raised brow. What was he saying? _He wasn't marrying Ginny, Draco was._

Then he realized he was supposed to repeat it. Feeling stupid, he frowned over at Ginny and repeated in a low voice, "With this ring, I thee wed."

"To respect and keep in sickness," he went on.

"To respect and keep in sickness . . ." Draco noticed there was no _love mentioned there. Fine by him. He'd never loved anybody, and didn't want to make vows that he would._

"To rule and keep order, to decide what is best for the kingdom first . . ."

Was this a wedding vow or pronunciation to be king?

Draco repeated all he was to say dutifully, feeling absolutely nothing as he stared at Ginny. She gave him a small, encouraging smile, and when he was finished, he slid the ring on her finger. 

It was too small and jammed at her knuckle, not going any further. She bit her lip and curled her fingers into her palm to keep it from sliding off. 

When it was Ginny's turn for vows, the queen presented Draco's ring to her, and she began repeating the man. Her vows were different, something about "devotion to your king" and "helping your king in any way possible" as though she were some peasant and not the queen. It seemed a bit sexist to Draco. He ignored what she said for the most part.

She took his hand in her smaller, warmer one, her skin feeling soft. His ring, a thick gold band with Latin writing engraved in it, actually fit. It looked out of place on his finger; he never wore jewelry, and rings were the most feminine sort in his opinion. 

Ginny smiled at him. Not a pleased, happy smile. One that was trembling and forced, clearly only put on to try and keep herself from crying.

For some reason, it made him feel something was squeezing his stomach. Was he really so terrible that she wanted to cry at the thought of being his wife?

There was no kissing of the bride. The man announced them "man and wife" and then added, "The new King and Queen of Wales and England." The crowd applauded appropriately. 

Obviously this was both a wedding _and an initiation of the new rulers. _

Draco was ready to go, but it wasn't quite over yet. His father stepped in front of him, his back to the audience, and gave him a tiny smile that reached his eyes. He removed his larger, more elaborate crown from his head. 

When Draco did nothing in return, Edward gave him an annoyed look. "Your crown," he mouthed.

Sighing, Draco reached up and took his own crown off. Edward then placed the king's crown on, and the crowd began clapping again. Looking over, Draco saw the same changing of the crowns had happened with Ginny and her mother.

Ginny stared out at everyone, her face stony, her lips white. Draco had a strong impulse to put his arm around his shoulders, but managed to ignore it.

Ginny's father, King Robert, stepped between them and addressed everyone in the room. 

"Now that the ceremony is over," he called, beaming at them all in a false sort of way, "we ask that you join us out in the gardens for some fun and activities. Be sure to dress warmly."

Fun and activities, eh? Draco glanced at Ginny with a quizzical expression, and she only shrugged at him. 

The people slowly began filing out of the room. Unsure of what to do, Draco turned to his father. Before he could ask what was going on, someone tapped his arm to get his attention. He turned to face Ginny's mother, who was smiling overly brightly at him.

"The artist is here, Draco," she said. 

"Artist?" he repeated without thinking.

"What artist?" Ginny echoed, stepping up to stand beside Lavinia. 

"The one who is going to paint your portrait, Virginia," Lavinia replied, attempting to cover her annoyance and failing. "Have you not heard _anything I discussed with you about today?"_

"Apparently not," Ginny retorted. Her sharp voice wasn't nearly as menacing as it should've been – she was clearly shaken up about the fact she was married.

Draco couldn't believe that he was married. He felt exactly the same; no joy, no depression . . . if anything, he was relieved the ceremony was over. _I'm not married, he told himself firmly. He would leave it at that._

"He's only painting Ginny's portrait, then," Draco said, trying to think about something other than what had just occurred. 

Lavinia flashed him an infuriated look, her eyes narrowed. "No, he is doing your wedding portrait, Draco." Her tone wasn't very controlled.

It took most of Draco's energy to not reply something vulgar and rude. Instead, he threw her his most angry glare and hoped it would wipe that irritated, know-all look from her face.

She ignored him.

Lavinia led them out a door in the back of the Great Hall, so they wouldn't run into any of the guests, to a room across the hall. Ginny walked beside Draco, holding up her insanely large skirt and looking down so she wouldn't trip on anything. The vision of her falling made him smile, but it only lasted a moment.

Inside the room was furniture, but it had all been pushed to the side. Hanging on one of the walls was a long, wide red sheet of some sort, reaching the floor and spreading out like a rug. In front of that was a middle-aged man with a huge canvas on an easel, a chair, and a set of paints.

He nodded at them, but other than that didn't greet them.

"Do what John says," Lavinia whispered loudly in Ginny's ear, evidently wanting Draco to overhear. Then she bunched up her skirts, turned, and left.

"I'm going to kill her," Ginny swore under her breath. 

Draco chose not to reply and approached the man John. "How long is this picture going to take?" he demanded.

John didn't look at him; he pressed his brush into some paints and tried out the color on the corner of his canvas. "You cannot rush art, Your Majesty," he answered vaguely.

"Wonderful," Draco muttered.

"Where do you want us?" Ginny grumbled. She was in a bad mood. Damn that stupid queen – now Draco would have to suffer with a short tempered Weasely. 

John pointed with the end of the brush at the red sheet. It was on the wall and floor to provide a solid background, Draco figured, as he stepped on to it. Ginny followed sullenly, raising her dress even higher so the hem wouldn't pull the sheet across the stone.

They stood there for a second, and when John continued to stare at his blank canvas, as though thinking, Draco got annoyed. 

"Look, tell us how to stand or we're going to walk out of here," he snapped. "And then we'll . . . shun you from the country."

Ginny rolled her eyes at him, indicating how she thought what he said was idiotic. He glared back, but she wasn't looking and didn't see it.

"Stand together," John said curtly, finally looking at them. He proceeded to give them directions, and Draco had to give him credit on how he hid his irritation when they had trouble following them.

In the end, they were standing shoulder to shoulder, Ginny on John's left, Draco on John's right. Ginny was slightly turned towards Draco and both her hands were in his.

He had his easel set up directly in front of them, so he could look up and see them. "Look at me, and do not move," John commanded. Then he began to draw.

Their position was comfortable for a little while, but not for the near three hours it took for the artist to paint. Several times Draco had an itch that he just about died wanting to scratch, and after a half an hour he had to go to the bathroom. His legs were aching from standing so much. He began to perspire, and it tickled as it rolled down the back of his neck. He couldn't do _anything and it was driving him half mad._

Ginny's hands began to sweat in his. She was just as uncomfortable as he was, if not more so, due to her outfit. Yet Draco was too concerned with himself to think of her.

He did anything he could to keep himself occupied. He attempted to see how high he could count in his head, but lost count somewhere around six hundred and seventy four. Then he began to list all the spells he'd ever learned, trying to remember them in the order they were taught. After a while, that got too hard, and he moved on to recalling all the scores of his Quidditch matches. He didn't get very far with it, because it was near impossible to remember every game he'd had in his life. He then went through all the recipes for cooking he knew, and it didn't last him very long, as he didn't know how to cook much.

Finally, after nearly three hours, the man set down his brush and paints, leaned back, studied his canvas for a moment, and nodded with satisfaction. 

"I have completed it," he said.

If he had announced, "I have a way for you to get back to your time" Draco wouldn't have been happier. He dropped Ginny's hands and wiped the back of his neck. Ginny sat down on the floor as quickly as her dress would let her, releasing a deep sigh of relief.

John looked at them questioningly. "Do you not want to see it?"

No, Draco had no desire whatsoever to see it. But what the hell – he'd endured three hours of standing just for it, so he might as well make sure it came out all right.

He helped Ginny to her feet and they walked over to the canvas. She sucked in a breath when she saw it.

Well. It was a spectacular painting, but not one that Draco would have wanted to stay put for hours to have made. Then again, he wouldn't have wanted to stay still for that long for any sort of painting. Still, it was way beyond what he had expected, and very realistic, much like the portrait of his "mother" he had in his room at the other palace. 

He had painted their entire bodies, Ginny's dress and Draco's clothes drawn in exquisite detail. Yet it was their faces that made it so amazing. They were both staring ahead, though not _precisely straight ahead to give the feeling that they were watching whoever was looking at the painting. Draco's expression was blank, as he hoped it usually was. But there was something about the way his eyebrows were slightly raised that gave off a feeling he was annoyed with something. Ginny looked almost happy. Her lips were closed, but she was giving a half smile. John had obviously added her expression in, or drawn it towards the beginning when Ginny was smiling, because there was no way even __Ginny could have been smiling after an hour._

John was clearly waiting for praise. Ginny only muttered a thank you before Draco grabbed her arm and they left the room.

* * *

Elle slammed the door behind her, hoping that someone would hear it over the loud racket of the laughs and shouts. Of course, no one did. No one would even miss her.

For the past four hours, all the guests had been playing, yelling, and laughing obnoxiously outside on the castle grounds. They were celebrating their new king and queen. Elle had seen her father Edward having a good time, which was rare. Even Ginny and Draco had shown up towards the end, after having their portrait drawn, though they were looking mad.

There were so many people, if Elle wanted companionship, she didn't have to look far. But they were all _grown ups. There was no one her age, or even close. It had been positively dull. Her own uncle, who was usually always fawning over her and telling her how much she looked like her mother, had been too busy sticking his head in a barrel of water to retrieve and apple with his teeth to notice her. And he'd never ignored her in his life._

The only way to escape the drunkenness and screaming of the adults was to retreat inside the castle. It was deathly quiet, most of the servants either dismissed for the day until cleanup the next morning or outside with the party. Yet it was a sanctuary, and Elle relished in the silence. 

Sighing with boredom, Elle walked towards the kitchens, hoping to find herself a piece of fruit that wasn't floating in water or surrounding a dead pig. Sometimes she just liked to eat things plain. 

She squealed with delight when she managed to find an orange that someone had missed when they took the food outside. She'd only had an orange once in her lifetime, because they came from America and more than half the shipping normally spoiled, but she'd decided that it was her favorite. 

Leaving the kitchen, digging her nails into the skin to peel it, she thought of where she could go to sit down and eat it without being walked in on. Unfortunately, she didn't know this castle as well as she did her own, and wasn't sure of any hiding places. She decided to just go to her room. 

Her room was dark when she walked in, which surprised her. She was sure to have her servant leave her curtains open all day so the sunlight could get in. Obviously, the girl must've forgotten.

Elle crossed over to the window, knowing the room well enough to navigate it in the dark. There was nothing between the door and the window, which should've left her a clean path and no objects to bump in to. She wasn't expecting something to be lying on the floor.

Her toe caught under something, and with a little shriek and the rustling of her velvet dress, she pitched forward. She dropped her orange and threw out her hands to break her fall, managing to keep from ripping any material on her nicest gown. Hearing her orange thump away, she jutted out her lower lip in a pout. Great, now it would get hairs on it. Good thing she'd only peeled a little of it. 

Her legs were propped up on whatever she had tripped on, and she twisted around and pulled her knees up to her chest. She was angry at whatever it was, angry at whoever had decided to leave something in the middle of her room for her to trip on and drop her most favorite food in the world.

She couldn't see anything in the darkness. The faint light spilling in from the open door wasn't helping any. She was too far in the room for it. Reaching out a hand, she nudged whatever was lying there, and felt cloth on something solid.

Elle yanked her hand back and froze. Why, that felt like a _person!_

Orange forgotten, she hurried to her feet. She felt panicked and her heart fluttering in her chest. It was like she'd just woken up from a bad dream, only she had a hunch the bad dream was only beginning.

She wrenched her curtains apart, letting the light from the cloudy day outside pour in. It revealed a lifeless body on her floor.

Elle stared at it for a moment, then closed her eyes. 

_Go away. When I open my eyes, you shall have gone away._

She thought that praying it out of her room would make it do so. But when she opened her eyelids, it remained there, and it didn't look like it was going to jump up and walk out, cheery and alive.

Slowly, Elle forced herself to move closer to see who it was. Its face was turned towards the doorway, away from her, so she had to lean over it. Terrified that it would somehow come back to life and grab her, she sniffed back a sob and looked down so she could move away quickly.

Elle saw the face and reeled back, that sob escaping her throat and tears of fright trickling down her cheeks. Clasping her hands to her chest, trying to get comfort, she tried to block out what she had seen.

She didn't know who it was. The person's features were so bloodied and bashed that it was impossible to tell. But the disgusting, gory look of it had caused her to nearly vomit. It was a good thing she hadn't eaten that orange.

Hysteria rose in her, and her breathing became heavier. She needed to get someone. She needed to tell. She needed to _get out of her room!_

Picking up her skirts to nearly her ankles, she jumped over the body and fled as fast as her short legs could take her. 

* * *

_Notes on chapter: The information I got on the wedding was here: http://www.weddingideas.com/nov98/elizabethan.htm. Everything that was said was actually the opposite of what I had thought, so if the information seems a bit . . . odd for this period, or for royalty, then just know I went by what it said by this article. Besides, this is __my world, might I remind you, so I can actually make the wedding however I want *sticks out tongue*_

I made up the wedding vows . . . obviously.

The artist isn't anyone in particular or famous – just some man I made up without a real name. 

**A/N: Okay, so, that was the wedding, and yes, the person murdered is someone we know, just not very well.**

Next chapter we shall find out why Tom wasn't at the wedding, who the sidekick is for sure, and why that stupid chair was behind that tapestry. Oh yeah, and we'll find out who that man is that Elle found in her room. 

I didn't have time to individually thank people, because it probably would've taken an extra two days for this chapter to come out ;) But if you have something that just must be answered, email me at mochabutterfly22@yahoo.com and I will be sure to answer you.

As always, if you want an update on a chapter, please email me at that same address or at mochabutterfly22@hotmail.com.

So anyway, here are the thank yous, and know that I am SO FREAKING HAPPY with all the reviews I got. It just blew my mind, and if I could, I'd visit each and every one of you and shake your hands and stay for a while (and drink all your Dr. Pepper!). 

Thank you oodles to:

**Wmlaw****, erin, Amanda Mancini, audig; b0rg queen of the week, Rubyjuls1722, sOmEoNeSpEcIaL, Escritora,**** Tarawen, Dazma, FireSprite, ****j-belle, ****Swim Freak, Cassandra Anthemyst, ****The Person Who Didn't Do It, **** Esha, ****Demeter, ****Rice-A-Ronnie, ****SierraSitruc, ****Sarah, ****cb****, Midnight, ****LdyLazarus, ****Evil*Fairy, ****tanuki-chan****, Parselmouth, Katy Kat, angel15, Emerald Dragon, kitty, WeatherWitchandMetalMage, DobbyWinky, Figaro, Korinna Myorin, LittleNymph, Calender, Dark-angel, VirtualFaerie, ~*TigerLily*~, The Jade Princess, Dracanea, MerlynBaboon007, JennyT, ChildLikeTendencies, Kichigai kimita, Mandy, RoseannRiddle, icedragon, ADaRen, hpangel, Aleydis, Moon Angel, ShortNSweet, Night Jasmin, Perfect 10, Bluebubblegrl, Linze, God of Fire, Fernanda, Daft Bugger, Diamond Tears, ddd, Nala/Ethereal, Mint, sparkleygem, VioletJersey, elen, mow wow, Moniluv, shanm, Angel Eevee, Sea Chelle, Asadi Dugue, Nayanya Potter, Shooting Angel, Mary, angel, Luna Angelus, Angel of Shadows, The Blue Faerie, iluvoliverwood, Cithara, Lyn Malfoy/Felton (eek! I'm really sorry I forgot you last time! Bad Mocha!!), ****Malfoy, Cassondra, LilyAyl, UMIFIREFLY15, Chero-Angel, The Goddess of Caffeine, Invader Saz, Issa, Silver Snidget, myself, kittiekat2344, RainDancer, danabird, phoenixdreams, Twink, anonymous217, Gryffingirl, Nobodysbitch, sheeni, szaranea, Nice, Athena Lionfire16, Ginny Malfoy, Brooke, Tangerine Caprigrrl, Steaming Teapot (of course your opinion matters!)****, Quinn, wellduh, Miss Spinn, sakura chan, aishnkatie, Phoenix Flare, Redbug, Michelle Wood, Spazzy, Fizzy-waterBaby, Andi, Nathalie, Sellene, Grammar Queen, GinGinn_12, SHEENS, Lucius, Zimmy Russell, Dragon_Angel, *cuty_cat*, and ****Deepu****.**

Expect individual thanks next chapter.

Ciao for now!

To my beta: Tia! I tried to send you this chapter but it said your account couldn't take any more emails because it was filled to capacity. And being the loser I am I deleted your other email address and could not find it for the life of me. I'm sorry but I just had to update this before people started tracking me down through the Internet and egging my house.


	15. Behind the Tapestry

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR cept for the world and stuff.

A/N: Thanks to Tia for beta'ing!

**Chapter Fifteen**

**_Behind the Tapestry_**

The festivities were soon called off after Elle came to her father screaming.  News spread quickly that there had been a murder in the castle, and everyone was eager to return to his or her home.  

Ginny would've been thrilled if she hadn't had such a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach about who was murdered.

Her mother Lavinia was incredibly angry about it all.  Alone outside with no one except Ginny to hear her complain, she muttered under her breath, "What disastrous timing.  It will delay your wedding night."

Ginny tried not to look too relieved.  "That's terrible, Mother," she said, though she couldn't keep the glee from her tone.

"I shall just have to send Ramiro home and have him come tomorrow evening," Lavinia said, more to herself than to Ginny, who couldn't help overhear. "By then this mess will hopefully be over."

Ginny asked casually, "Who is Ramiro?"

Lavinia flashed an exasperated look.  "Do you listen to anything I say?"

"No," she replied honestly.

Her mother was clearly attempting to keep her temper.  "He is the one I hired to witness your wedding night."

Ginny felt the blood drain from her face, and the murdered person was pushed from her mind.  "Witness?" she croaked.

"You _know about this already, Ginny," she snapped.  "I have told you a million times."_

"Someone's going to witness us having sex?" Ginny demanded.

Lavinia looked surprised at her bluntness, but the statement hardened over into a look of infuriation.  Before she could fire her reply, her husband Edward came out gesturing her to come in.  Without another glance at Ginny, she walked inside.

Ginny thought she might die from shock.  First she got married against her will, and now she would have to shag Draco?  With someone around to _watch? Deep in her mind she was aware of the wedding night, but she had subconsciously figured that she could have just pretended to have actually done something.  And she had thought – or rather, prayed with all her might – that she and Draco would be gone out of the world before people began to notice she wasn't getting pregnant. _

As if in a daze, she walked back inside.  Well, she would just have to devise some sort of plan to get out of tomorrow night.  Maybe she could fall ill again.  That might work.

_I'll worry about it later, she told herself, suddenly remembering the person who was murdered.  She needed to focus on what was happening now.  She'd deal with what was going to happen later when it actually occurred._

Ginny asked a servant where her parents were and found them in a room with Draco, Edward, Elle, and Francis.  Francis was speaking with Edward and looking grave.  Elle clung to her father's hand, her eyes wide and her cheeks stained with dry tears.

"So who _is it?" Lavinia demanded impatiently. "Can it be covered up and forgotten?"_

"Dear . . ." Robert said warningly, giving her a stern look.  She pretended to ignore him, but didn't say anything else.

"It was impossible to see the features," Francis replied, and then turned back to Edward.  "But other things, such as hair and clothing, lead me to the conclusion that it's your wife's brother."  

Ginny stared at Francis for a minute, trying to process what he was saying.  Edward's wife's brother?  So that would be . . . Draco and Elle's uncle?  She wasn't aware they had an uncle.  She threw a questioning look at Draco, but he didn't see her.  His countenance was that of deep thought, as if he was trying to recall an uncle. 

"Uncle is dead?" Elle cried suddenly, tugging on her dad's hand and looking up at him as if hoping he would contradict her.  

"Shh," Edward told her, but when he glanced down at her he immediately softened.  He drew his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his body.  Then he returned his eyes to Francis.  "Arsen is the man who was murdered?  You believe this?"

"His hair, even though it was soaked with blood, is clearly a light blonde color," Francis said without really answering the question.  "And I did see Arsen earlier today. He was wearing dark green.  The same sort the dead man is wearing."

"Who would kill Arsen?" Robert asked, looking confused.  "To hint that perhaps the murderer will attack. . . a member of the Royal family next time?"  

"Let us not jump to conclusions," Francis began.

Lavinia interrupted.  "Not jump to conclusions!" she repeated shrilly.  "A man who is practically royal was _murdered!  Of course one of us will be next. Francis, I want you to put guards __everywhere.  At every entrance of the castle, and near all the big windows, and have several more than usual guarding Robert-and-my quarters –-"  _

"Lavinia, dear, calm down," Robert said, his voice calm.  "Arsen was a Duke, yes, but from what Edward tells us he rarely ever was in contact with Arsen as a friend or even ally. Ever since Orla died they avoided each other." Ginny assumed that Orla was Draco's mother. "For someone to kill Arsen obviously is not meant as a direct threat to any of us.  Anyone knows that Edward does not care for the man."

"I did," Elle muttered quietly, so quietly Ginny thought she was the only one who heard.

"Robert, darling, think for a moment, will you?" Lavinia asked kindly, changing her tactics.  "Arsen was killed in our castle, at our child's wedding.  If this was not a threat to us, then the murderer would have killed Arsen at his home, away from all this."

"Unless the murderer lives _here," Ginny said under her breath.  She hadn't expected anyone to actually listen to her, but suddenly, everyone was staring at her._

"What do you mean?" said Francis, his face creased in confusion. 

It was pretty obvious to Ginny that Tom had murdered this Arsen fellow, but if she told them her mother would insist otherwise.  So instead, she just shrugged and didn't reply. 

"Just ignore her," Lavinia sighed after a moment of silence.  "Ginny, dear, let us adults figure this out."

Ginny bit her tongue to keep from retorting.  One of these days her opinions were just going to spill out of her, and there would be no way to stop them.

She spun around and stormed out of the room.  Following close behind her was Draco.  When they were a good distance away from the room, Ginny stopped and turned to face him.

"You never told me you had an uncle," she accused a bit sharply, trying to rid herself of some of her pent up frustration.

"I kind of forgot," Draco told her with a shrug.  "I met him at the ball.  I didn't know his name, though."

"Well, he's dead."  She wasn't sure why she said that.

"Yeah, thanks for the update."

She curled her hands into fists, her mind scrambling to find some sort of snappy comeback.

"Calm down, Ginny," he told her, grinning arrogantly.  "You're going to explode if you keep turning that red."

Somehow, his playful tone helped her relax.  She released a loud breath of air and dropped her shoulders.  "Sorry," she said.  "Lavinia was pissing me off."

"Your mother?"

"Yes."

"Don't worry about her.  She'll get hers someday," Draco said, and Ginny had the eeriest flashback of Ron saying the same thing about him.  It struck her as ironic, but she was in no mood to laugh.

"I would love to be the one to give it to her," she snapped.  She forced herself to loosen up again, and abruptly changed the subject.  "Tom wasn't at our wedding."

"Pity," Draco murmured.

"Meaning he was probably off murdering your uncle," said Ginny slowly.  "That's obvious . . . but why'd he kill _him?"_

"Maybe he thought it was me by mistake," Draco told her soberly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "That's not funny, Draco."

"I'm not trying to be funny, Weasley," he replied angrily. 

Ginny let out a groan of frustration and started to run her fingers through her hair.  She nearly knocked her crown off.  She'd completely forgotten about it.  Yanking it off her head, she had a desire to heave it across the hall.  But she kept her cool and gripped it tightly in her fingers. 

"Can you just try to come up with reasonable explanations?" she asked Draco impatiently.

"That is the most reasonable one I can think of," he fired back.  "Is it so hard to figure out, Ginny, that I'm just as clueless on this as you are?  Contrary to what you think, I don't know everything."

"All right, look, bickering and bitching will get us nowhere," Ginny barked shortly. 

"You're the one who's bitching, it sounds like to me," Draco said without hesitation.

The way he had something to say to everything bothered her.  He rubbed her the wrong way every time he opened his mouth!  How could she live with it?  And how could she have kids that would have to survive with a father like him?

Ginny suddenly was struck with an idea.  She was desperate.  That much was clear.  And Tom was going to eventually do something to her.  So why would she wait around for it?

She would go to Dumbledore.  There still was a chance that maybe he could help them.  If not, if he somehow turned them over to Tom, then so what?  It would come sooner or later, and Ginny wasn't about to wait around for it and have children with Draco in the meantime. 

"Come on," she said swiftly, grabbing his wrist and hurrying down the hall.

"Come on where?"

"We're going to see Dumbledore."

Draco followed, but she could hear his surprise as he repeated, "Dumbledore?  I thought you said he was evil."

"I didn't say that," she snapped.  "I just assumed.  I could be wrong."

"Are you aware that Dumbledore lives in my country?"

"Yes, I am, thank you, Draco."  Her tone was short and clipped.  He was annoying her.

"So what?  Are you just going to take a carriage and pray that no one kidnaps you again?" said Draco, referring to the Gypsies.

She chose not to reply.  Once she managed to keep her temper and sort her thoughts out she'd explain to him what she was going to do. 

However, when she reached the doors that lead to the barn, several guardsmen stopped her.

"Sorry, Your Majesties.  Queen Lavinia says that you are not allowed to leave the castle," one man said.

"Queen?  She's not the queen anymore; I am!" Ginny cried, taking advantage of her power for once.

The man who'd spoken shifted uncomfortably.  "I am sorry, Your Majesty. I cannot let you leave."

Ginny bit down on her lip to keep from screaming.  Well, then she'd just have to force her mother to let her go.  She was supposed to be the most powerful person in the kingdom, wasn't she?  What right did her mother have to keep her contained?

As she practically ran to find her mother, she noticed she was still gripping Draco's wrist.  He must've felt her hold tightening, because he stopped walking with her.  Irritated, she turned around to ask him what he was doing, but he spoke first.

"Ginny, calm down," he ordered sternly.  The way _he was the calm one only infuriated her more.  It was as if he were her parent or something.  "You look like you're about to have a heart attack."_

"I just might," she said sullenly.

"Whatever you were planning on doing, I'm sure it was stupid, anyway," he told her.  "So maybe it's for the best that we're not allowed to go."

"Oh, we're going to be –" she started.

"Your Majesty?" a voice said.

Ginny turned to see Maria smiling.  Ginny tried to push down her anger and act reasonably.  "What?" she said.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you," Maria explained, "but I need you to come with me."

"Why?" Draco nudged her from behind, indicating that she should go without questioning.  Sighing, and closing her eyes briefly, she added, "I'm sorry.  Yes, I'll come with you."

"I'll see you later," Draco whispered in her ear.  "We'll figure things out."

She threw a glance over her shoulder at him, wondering when he'd become so in control of everything.  His face, as usual, was void of any emotion.  Turning, he headed down the hall in the opposite direction.

"Come," Maria said with a smile, taking Ginny's elbow to lead her. 

"Should I change?" Ginny asked.  "I'm still in my wedding –"

"No," Maria cut in, a bit sharply.  "No, dear, it'll only take a few minutes."

Ginny kept up with her brisk speed, thinking it odd that they were moving so fast.  She glanced at Maria and started to ask where they were going when she saw that the maid was sweating.  A sheen of moisture coated her forehead.

"Maria?  Are you okay?" she asked. 

"Of course," Maria said dismissively without looking at her. 

"You're sweating."

"It's warm in here."

It was actually kind of cold, and Ginny was wearing a considerable amount of layers.  Still, maybe since Maria was so short and pudgy, and because she moved around a lot more, she found it warmer. 

Maria led her to the sitting room where Lavinia always received guests.  "Sit for a moment," she instructed, and Ginny did so, becoming more confused as each second passed.  Maria was acting so strangely; with nervous energy. "Here, drink this," she added, handing her a silver goblet.  "I shall be back with whom would like to speak with you." Then she was gone.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "That was weird," she muttered to herself. 

She glanced at the goblet in her hand.  It had clear liquid in it, which she guessed was water.  Taking a sip, she found it wasn't water – it was something delightfully sugary and fruity. 

Forcing herself to forget her frustration, she relaxed in the chair as much as her corset would let her, and sipped her drink. 

* * *

"Your Majesty!" 

Draco just about collided with Harry in the hallway, the servant was moving so fast.  Draco's first reaction was to throw some nasty insult at him, but then he remembered that it wasn't the Potter who would actually understand what he was saying, so he bit his tongue and kept quiet.

"Your Majesty, I have something to show you," Harry said, out of breath. 

Draco would've rather made a snowman with Elle than go with him.  But Harry looked so eager, and uneasy at the same time, that he sighed and gave in.  "All right, but it better be quick," he said. 

Harry nodded and started to lead him through the castle.  They didn't speak to each other.  Draco's mind was on other things – his uncle's death, Ginny, his wedding . . . he really didn't have time to be worrying about something Harry wanted to show him.

"It's in here," announced Harry when he paused in front of a doorway.  He quickly grabbed a torch off the wall and opened the door for them.

Draco walked in first, and even before Harry came in with the light, he instantly recognized the room.  It was the empty one with the freakish tapestry and hidden chair.

"Yes, I've seen the chair," Draco sighed as Harry headed towards the tapestry.  "It's a weird place, but I don't know who put it there."

"But have you seen this?  Would you come here and see?" Harry asked, too absorbed in what he wanted to prove to care whom he was talking to. 

Draco released an exasperated breath and came to stand beside him.  Harry handed him the torch to hold, then pushed the tapestry aside.  The green chair was still there. 

"I don't –" Draco started.

"Watch," Harry cut in.  He reached forward and grabbed the top of the chair back.  Then he pulled it towards them so it tipped forward on its front legs.  Instantly, a scraping noise was heard, like that of stone rubbing against stone.  The wall behind the chair swung open, revealing a pitch-black passageway.  "Did you know about this?" Harry demanded, letting the chair fall back into its normal position. 

Draco leaned forward and stuck the torch into the passage, but he couldn't see anything except darkness beyond the light of the fire.  "No," he said absently.  "I didn't.  Hold this."

Giving him back the torch, Draco stepped onto the seat of the chair and jumped over the back into the corridor.  He held his hand out for the light, and when he had it again, he started to walk through the passage.  It took him a moment to notice Harry wasn't following him.

"Well, Potter, are you coming?" he snapped.

In a moment Harry was directly behind him.  Draco resumed walking.

The corridor went straight for a few hundred feet, and then it began to slope downwards.  Draco followed the floor, noting that when the ground leveled out they were deep enough to be underneath the castle.  _It's some sort of hidden passage, he thought, __that probably leads outside._

When the passageway did end, it ended with a door.  Draco lowered the torch to the rusted knob.  It was probably locked.  He twisted the handle, and sure enough the door didn't budge.

If he'd had his wand he would've been able to open it. 

Cursing under his breath, Draco turned and faced Harry.  His face in the torchlight was splashed with orange, and he looked grave.  "What is wrong?" he asked.

"It's locked," Draco answered sourly.  "Who would lock the door if something important wasn't behind it?"

"Maybe there is a key," Harry suggested, glancing around the narrow passage.  There was no place to hide a key anywhere – the walls and floor was made of solid stone.

"I'll find something to break it open with in the castle," Draco said, and pushed by him to lead the way back.

It was beginning to bother him.  What was the door guarding?  A room?  A way outside?  Who had made the passage, anyway?  Did anyone even know about it?  The door looked so old, it was possible no one had touched it for years.

They hadn't even begun their trek back up when Harry suddenly let out a muffled cry.  Draco turned just in time to see him crash to the floor onto his hands.

Draco sighed irritably.  "Great, Potter, what you'd trip over?  Your own feet?"

Harry shot him a glare and pulled himself into a crouch.  He glanced at the spot where he'd tripped.  "Shine the light here, Majesty," he said.

Draco did so, and found that he had actually stumbled over something after all.  A stone in the ground was loose.  Very loose – almost as if it could be pulled out easily.

"Well, try and fix it," Draco told him.  Despite how old everything was he had a very strong feeling that someone actually used this corridor.  He knew that they would notice if a stone was loose when it hadn't been before.

Harry used his hands to try and drive the stone back in its place, but it wouldn't sink any lower.  The top remained an inch above the rest of the even ground.  "Something's stopping it," he said.

"Take it out," Draco ordered.

Harry did so and placed it aside.  In the hole, at the bottom, was a rusted brass key.

* * *

Ginny had nearly drained her cup by the time Maria returned.  Behind her trailed Tom.

Ginny jumped to her feet, her goblet dropping to the ground.  "You brought me here for him?" she shrieked.

"Majesty, please," Maria pleaded.  Tom walked over to the sofa across from her, his face blank.  He was ignoring her. 

"I won't!" Ginny screamed.  "I won't stay here for this!"

She started to stride towards the door, but Tom was too quick for her.  He reached out his arm and slid it around her waist, lifting her effortlessly and pulling her back beside him.  The instant he touched her it felt as if her blood had stopped, frozen in her veins.  She let out a shrill yell and kicked out her feet.  Yet even with one arm around her he could easily pin her still to his side. 

"Settle down, Ginny," he purred, his voice far too close to her ear.  "I won't hurt you.  Not until we're away from the castle."

The threat rang meaningless in her mind.  She was comforted by the fact that they couldn't leave the castle yet – not until Lavinia let the guards stop protecting every exit.  For now, she was safe.

"Let me go," she hissed, and jerked from his grip.  He let her go simply, when she'd been expecting another struggle.  She nearly fell to the floor with the force she'd used to pull away from him.

"Please," he said pleasantly, gesturing to the sofa across from him, "sit."

She didn't see how she had any other choice.  She shot a glance over at Maria, who had her hands clasped tightly and looked sympathetic.  When she caught her eyes, the maid hurried to explain, "He just wanted to speak with you, Your Majesty. I shall be just outside the door."

Before Ginny could protest, she was gone.

Turning her narrowed eyes back to Tom, she dropped onto the sofa.  He was already sitting, and smiling serenely at her.

"Let's not pretend anymore, shall we?" he asked.  "You've been avoiding me because you know who . . . and what . . . I am."

Ginny continued to glare at him, her lips pressed in a thin line.

Tom leaned forward suddenly, as if he wanted to tell her something quietly, something secret.  In a hushed voice, he said, "I brought you here for a reason, you know.  You and Draco both.  I assume you're aware of this."

"Yes," she replied sharply.

"Good."  He looked satisfied as he leaned back once again.  Then he asked, "Had you ever met Arsen?"

The change of subject was so unexpected it took Ginny a moment to realize what he was talking about.  She stared.  "No."

"Yes, well, I did not kill him, if you are wondering," he said as easily as if he were commenting on the weather.

"Right."  And Ginny was supposed to believe that?

"I had someone else do it for me.  You must know who I am referring to," he said, his beautiful eyes boring into her.  She tried to look away but couldn't.  "You've seen this person in your dreams."

Ginny sat up straighter.  The sudden movement made her feel wobbly, and she went limp once more.  "You made me have those dreams, didn't you?" she accused.  There wasn't as much fire behind those words as she'd have hoped.

"You didn't think that pink potion I gave you only cured your pneumonia, did you?" he said.  "You can actually thank me for that.  If it weren't for those dreams, you wouldn't know if I was good or not.  You wouldn't have known if you could trust me."

"I wouldn't have trusted you no matter what," she spat.  Her tongue felt heavy.  Was she slurring?

"True. I wouldn't trust myself, either."

Ginny tried to collect her thoughts.  Her brain was turning into mush.  Shaking her head to try and straighten things out, she managed to decide to return to the original purpose of the discussion.  "Your sidekick in my dreams killed Draco's uncle?"

Tom nodded once.  "Yes. Arsen was planning to suggest to Draco that he banish me.  He had some sort of sixth sense that warned him against me.  So I had him killed."

Ginny suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for Arsen.  Without her even knowing who he was, he had been trying to help her.  And now he was dead.  "Well, you know, because of this you have sealed off every exit for you to escape from," she said, trying to make him squirm.  Yet how could she use any force in her threats to make him uncomfortable if she was feeling so sluggish all of the sudden?  "Lavinia had guards posted nearly everywhere.  You won't be able to leave now."

"I have ways, Ginny," he said so smoothly it frightened her.  Did nothing worry him?

_Probably not, a voice answered for her._

"Who killed Arsen?" she asked in a near whisper, her voice trembling.  "Tell me now."

Tom looked surprised.  He raised one eyebrow, much like Draco did.  "You don't know?"

"Tell me!" she repeated at a scream.  It felt as if she were using the final ounces of strength within her.

Tom did not answer right away.  He raised an eyebrow, as though he were intrigued by her yelling.  Finally, he drawled, "Why, it's Maria. I thought you knew that."

* * *

The key slipped easily into the old lock of the door.  Turning it, Draco heard a click.  Then he pushed it open.

Inside was dark.  He took a step in, holding his torch up.  Harry wasn't far behind him, and he was breathing obnoxiously loud.  Draco bit his lip to keep from snapping at him to shut up.

As the light washed over everything, it revealed a small, square-shaped room.  Crammed up against one wall was a table, piled with parchments and vials.  Another table against the opposite wall was covered with the same materials.  The entire area reminded Draco strongly of a much smaller, mustier Potions dungeon.

Draco stepped in further, trying to make sense of everything.  Several of the vials were full of liquid.  What sort, though?  Curious, Draco walked to one of the tables, Harry following him so he could stay in the light.  Draco lifted one of the beakers containing what looked like blood and sniffed it.

It was dragons' blood.

He would know the pungent, spicy smell anywhere.  And if he wasn't mistaken, Muggles had no use for dragons' blood.  So there would be no reason for a Muggle to have a lab like this. 

Just to be sure, he reached for another vial.  It had a yellow-y, thick substance in it.  He didn't have to smell this one, because it was labeled on the side.  _Armadillo Bile._

Now he was positive this wasn't a working space of a Muggle.  And if this world consisted of only non-magic people, it obviously had to belong to Tom Riddle.

_He is__ magical, Draco realized.  Well, Ginny would certainly need to know of this.  He knew she wasn't sure if Tom could use magic or not.  He would have to tell her to stay away from him. _

He turned to leave, and found that Harry was so close behind that he collided in to him.

"Potter!" he growled, shoving past him.

Harry evidently chose to ignore his irritated tone, and grabbed his arm to keep him from moving anywhere.  "Wait.  Where does that door lead to?" said Harry.

Draco paused and turned back, shining the light where Harry was pointing.  There was another door across from the first one they'd entered.  It was nearly hidden in the shadows, the dark-brown coloring of the wood blending with the stone walls. 

"Open it," he ordered to Harry.

He obeyed and pulled the door open with no trouble.  It revealed a stairway.

Draco felt a blast of icy air blow in.  He handed Harry the torch and strode over, then hurried out of the room and up a few stairs.  He didn't have to go very far.  At the top of the staircase was daylight.  It led directly outside. 

"It's an exit," Draco muttered, shutting the door and turning to Harry.  "And it's not guarded."

"Perhaps no one knows about it," said Harry.

Draco tried not to be annoyed.  "Yes, that's exactly the problem.  This room belongs to Tom.  He's doing something down here."  He didn't expect Harry to understand, but he nodded like he did anyway.  "Right, then, let's go find Ginny.  I'm sure she'd like to know about this." 

* * *

_"Why, it's Maria.  I thought you knew that."_

Ginny stood up so quickly a wave of dizziness passed over her.  Dots splotched her vision, and she had to close her eyes to wait for it to pass.  _I must have stood up too fast, she told herself, then opened her eyelids again and fixed Tom with a furious gaze._

"Not Maria," she said firmly, but softly.  "It couldn't be Maria.  It's a man, I know it is –"

Tom laughed, and it was a repulsive sound.  She stared at him, surprised into silence, until he stopped and spoke.  "My dear girl, that person in your dreams is not a man.  It's Maria.  I wouldn't lie to you."

Somehow, with a sick lurch of her insides, she knew he was indeed telling the truth.  She felt just as betrayed, just as ill as she had when she'd thought Harry was the one murdering everyone.  Only this seemed so much worse, for reasons she couldn't identify.

Her legs felt weak, and she considered it had to be from shock.  She took one step towards the door before she had to stop and blink again.  What was happening to her?  Why was she feeling so . . . lifeless?

"Maria," Tom said simply, smiling a small, creepy smile at Ginny.  "Come here.  I think the potion is beginning to take affect."

_Potion?__  The words Tom said swam in her head.  __What potion?_

The door opened, but it sounded far away.  Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she turned towards the entryway and opened them.  Her vision was slightly blurred around the edges.  What was going on?  What potion had she taken?

Maria walked to Tom's side.  Ginny's sight was clear enough for her to see the maid's pleased smile.  It was then she realized to what potion Tom had been referring. 

Her eyes dropped down to the floor, where the silver goblet lay on its side, empty.  The drink Maria had given her had been drugged!

_Oh . . . Ginny took another step towards the door, but had to pause.  It felt like too much effort to get that far. _

This time, when she returned her gaze to Tom and Maria, it was fuzzy.  It was like she was viewing everything through thick glass.  Their blurry figures swam in her eyes, and the room seemed to spin.  It felt as if the floor was rushing up to greet her.  She threw her hands out to keep from hurting herself, but she lost her balance and dropped forward. 

_What are you doing with me? she desperately wanted to ask.  But she couldn't command her mouth to work.  She couldn't do __anything.  She gave up her struggle and collapsed against the ground._

Voices intermingled in her ears, and the world swirled around her in a mix of colors.  She could feel the scratchy carpet against her cheek, the vivid sensation telling her that everything was indeed happening, and not a dream.

Then, as if someone had pushed a button to turn it all off, all went black.

* * *

Draco left Harry to lock everything back up and return the key to its hiding place, asking him to come and join him once he had done so.  Then he went to find Ginny.

For the first time he couldn't find her anywhere.  He asked many servants, but none knew where she would be.  He finally got fed up and demanded to know where the queen was.  The girl answering said she was taking her bath, and would not be able to accept any visitors for another hour.

Frustrated, Draco ran a hand through his hair.  He then cursed himself for messing it up, and hurried to smooth it back down. 

After ten minutes, he went in search of Maria.  The maid would have to know where Ginny was, because she had taken her somewhere herself.

But he couldn't find her either.  It was as if everyone he wanted to see had just dropped of the planet.  Biting back what he knew would be extremely colorful language, he told his servant Timothy to let him know if Ginny came looking for him, and went to find Elle.  She would keep him occupied, he thought, and maybe even know where Ginny was.

However, Elle didn't.  He found her practically glued to their father's side, still upset over the murder of her uncle.  Draco had forgotten about the murder.  After a half hearted attempt to make her feel better, he left to mope around the castle in hopes of running into someone who was aware of where Ginny was – or better yet, run into Ginny herself.

Nearly a half hour had passed before Draco noticed Harry hadn't come back.  He remembered plainly asking Potter to come and seek him when he had finished locking everything.  He'd wanted him there when he told Ginny of the "workplace" he'd found of Tom's.

Now he had another mission: to see where Harry had gone.  Maybe he just couldn't find him, like Draco couldn't find Ginny.  It would make sense.

He asked around the kitchens and various other places, but none of the servants had seen him.  Swallowing a particularly nasty curse, Draco spun around and stormed back into the main part of the castle.

It was driving him mad!  Where _was everybody?  Were they purposely hiding from him just to irritate him?_

Then another thought struck him.  Perhaps Harry was still down in Tom's room. 

Of course, it would make sense.  How could Draco even begin to trust Harry?  He didn't know him at all, and from what Ginny told him, it was clear that this Potter was way different from the future wonder-boy.  Dark, disturbed, angry . . . just how _had he known about that chair, anyway?  How could he have "found" it?  Had he just decided to go prancing around that room, and suddenly think to pull on the chair?  It sounded suspicious, and Draco scolded himself for having not noticed it before. _

For the second time that day, Draco found himself pulling forward on the green chair, a torch in one hand.  Several minutes passed as he marched through the empty passage with nothing out of the ordinary and no sounds from anywhere.  When he finally reached the doorway of the room, he saw something that was very out of place. 

It was a body, lying between the door and the doorframe, holding it open. 

Draco knew immediately it was Harry, and just about dropped his torch.  Managing to hold onto the wood, and tightening his grip, he slowly moved his feet next to the limp body.  He was on his back, his head tipped to the side, and for a moment Draco stood there, wondering if he was dead.  Shock kept him from feeling anything substantial, but he was still able to imagine how weird it would be to know that Harry Potter wasn't in the same world with him.

But then he shook the thoughts from his mind and focused on more important things, like if Potter's chest was moving or not.  And it was.  Harry was still alive.

Keeping the torch up high, Draco pushed the door the rest of the way open and crouched beside Harry.  He didn't stir or even move an eyelid.  If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest Draco would've just assumed him dead.

"Come on, Potter," he said gruffly, nudging Harry's arm a bit roughly.  "Wake up."

His breathing pattern wasn't affected.  The way he looked it seemed almost as if he had been stunned. 

_That makes sense, Draco told himself.  Clearly Tom had come down here and found him snooping around.  Harry was lucky he hadn't been killed._

Draco stood and sighed.  So what had Tom come down here for?  Ingredients to make a potion?  He turned to look around and see what had been disturbed in the room, only to find the sight that greeted him astonished him into stupidity for about three seconds.

The entire room had been empty.  Swept clean.  The tables stacked with parchments and vials were gone, not one quill or ink-drop left behind. 

What had happened?  He'd been in here only forty-five minutes before.  It would be impossible for one person to take everything out in that amount of time.  He had to have used magic.

Just then, Harry decided to wake up.  He moaned, and Draco glanced back at him.  Stirring slowly, he reached a hand up to wipe his eyes underneath his glasses.

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but a rather quiet noise startled him.  He jerked his head back towards the opposite door.  It was open just a little, moving slightly when the wind blew especially hard.  Every now and then it would scratch against the stone frame before it was blown open once again. 

"What happened?" Harry asked groggily.  Draco turned and strode over to him as he struggled to sit up. 

"You were stunned," Draco told him truthfully, his tone neutral.  "Stand up.  The dizziness will wear off in a minute."

Harry did so, but took his time.  When he straightened, his face was dark with confusion, his eyebrows furrowed together.  "What happened?" he repeated, lifting a hand to his head as if it hurt.

"I just told you," Draco snapped.  Honestly, the boy was dim.  "You were stunned."

As if he hadn't heard a word, Harry continued. "Doctor Thomas found me locking the door . . . and he pulled out something and shouted at me.  That's all I remember."

Draco took a deep breath and reminded himself that Harry wouldn't know what "stunned" meant, so there was no use trying to press the issue. The thing Tom had pulled out on him was most likely a wand.  It would be pointless to try and explain _that to him. _

"He was carrying something . . ." Harry added, almost as an afterthought.  "A person –"

That caught Draco's attention.  "A what?" he asked faintly.

Harry closed his eyes for a minute and winced.  He was in the middle of a bad headache, Draco knew.  He'd experienced the aftershock of stuns many times.  "I could not tell exactly.  I only got a glimpse.  He had something over his shoulder, and it looked like a bundle of white."

"You just said it looked like a person," Draco said doubtfully, becoming angry for reasons he couldn't figure out.  He was beginning to think that maybe Harry had just imagined things.  "Think it out, will you?"

"I am trying," Harry retorted, momentarily getting his fire back.  Then his eyes went bleak again.  "I am not sure what it was."

Draco rolled his eyes and tried to hold in his frustrations.  This day was going straight down the tubes.  He had been married less than twelve hours and he couldn't find his bride, he had to pose for three hours, he . . .

_Wait. Bride? _

With a sinking feeling, Draco spun around to face Harry once more.  "White, did you say?" he demanded impatiently.

"White what?" said Harry, his face still flinching from the pain that was throbbing through his head. 

"A white bundle," Draco said sharply.  "A white bundle that was over Tom's shoulder.  That's what you saw, wasn't it?"

Harry began to shrug, as though he had more important things to think about.  "Once again, Your Majesty, I'm not sure –"

Draco grabbed his shoulders quickly, and Harry cut off with a surprised intake of breath.  "You better figure it out," Draco yelled at him, shaking him once.  "Because it just might have been _Ginny you saw."_

"Why – why would the doctor be carrying Her Majesty through here?" Harry asked softly, looking terrified at Draco's sudden rage. 

It was hopeless.  Shoving Harry away, causing the servant to stumble back a few steps before he regained his balance, Draco turned and reached the door leading outside in two steps.  Somehow, he had a feeling that Tom had taken Ginny out of the castle.  It was more than likely.  She had to have been the white bundle Harry had seen.

"Fuck," Draco swore under his breath, taking the stairs two at a time.  It was a relief when he was on ground level again, but the air was frigid cold and the sun had nearly set. 

He wouldn't let the weather stop him.  He wasn't even going to go back for a thicker cloak.  Ginny was most likely being murdered in the woods at that very moment.  How _stupid could he have been?_

From the beginning Ginny had tried to tell him Tom was evil and that he was there to do something harmful to them.  Draco even had known himself when he'd walked in on him threatening her at the theater.  So why had he let her go off by herself?  Why had he allowed her to go with Maria?

Cursing himself not so softly, he broke into a run and headed towards the barn for a horse.

* * *

A/N: Well, I've left it at another cliffie, and I know you all are going to have a hissy fit, but I'm sorry! That's just where the chapter was screaming to be cut off.

The lack of D/G action is, believe it or not, needed for this kind of chapter. It just wouldn't have fit. There will most likely not be any next chapter either, but at the end, when everything is set straight – THEN there will be plenty of D/G kissy, yelling goodness. 

As always, please email me at mochabutterfly22@hotmail.com or mochabutterfly22@yahoo.com of you'd like to know when there's an update. And if you somehow miss this little notice and say in your review, "Email me when the next chapter's up!" I'm afraid you'll never know unless you check it out yourself. It's just because I'm mean and fat and lazy like that. 

Or, if you don't feel like emailing me, join the group Emma (FireSprite) and I started: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/firespriteandmochabutterfly/. If you join you'll get various cookies from my fics, Emma's, and the one we're writing together, _Desired Life. Also you'll know when we update._

And now on to reviews. I have surpassed the 1000 mark. I can't believe it. It's utterly amazing and I thank you a thousand times for them. I'm absolutely _ecstatic. Well, I'm sure I will be, once the fact sinks in; right now I, like I just said, kinda can't believe it ;)_

Now, thank yous. This is seriously long, because I said something to just about everyone. 

Thanks oodles to:

**Morwen**** Langan (I'm still having trouble believing that their married as well), ****Allison (there was a deprivation of snogs in this chapter, too. I'm awfully sorry!), ****God of Fire (lol, that kinda sucks he's your ex, though, hmm?), ****Anji**** (thanks for being one of the first! And I love you, too . . . in a nice sort of way. Desired Life is coming quite well, thanks), ****Dances With Fire (so, how many days left now? Probably not too many, right? Thanks!), ****Shooting Jewel (Nope, it wasn't Francis! Hee. I'm sure yours isn't too bad – I'll be sure to check it out once I get the chance!), ****wmlaw**** (I'm sorry. I chickened out. I didn't do the wedding night! I'm no good at the smut sort of thing. Don't have any experience ;)) ****Annabel Lee (hee, !marks are fun!), ****Butterflysky (yep, you spelled angsty right. And yes, Hogwarts was established during this time, but this is a completely different world so it doesn't exist where they are. Yes, D/G definitely has lots of OOMPH), ****Eyebright, ****Escritora**** (bad! Choosing to read this instead of studying? Well, I hope you did well anyway. And thanks, I don't think I write all THAT amazing, but it's sure nice to hear!), ****audig****, b0rg queen of the week (sixth grade friends, eh? That's…special. TPing is fun, it sure is. What's fresca? I live in a bubble, hee!), ****sheeni****, Mint (Nope, not James! Glad I kept D/G's emotions good . . . is that bad grammar or what? Kept emotions good?), ****Cassandra Anthemyst (I love romance, too, but this chapter just couldn't have it :( Anyway, Harry and James are both alive and grooving!), ****Kat Riddle (*snags Dr. Pepper* Ha! And yes, I couldn't have stood that long either!), ****bubblez**** fairy (of course they shall!), ****ShortNSweet, ****Vertically Challenged, ~*Crystal Lily*~ (nope, not Elle! *huggles Elle*), ****Fay Elf (even eviler cliffie, eh?), ****Diamond Tears (it does sound like fun, doesn't it? Well, if you egg it, you're cleaning it up!), ****Draco-lover, sOmEoNeSpEcIaL (yes, lack of romance, I know), ****Demeter (Harry would definitely loose where Draco was concerned!), ****Evil*Fairy (just to scare her, I suppose), ****tanuki-chan (thanks! Actually, when I began writing this story, I don't think there were any –travel into the past- D/G fics. At least none that I knew of!), ****the blue faerie (lol, I'm sorry, I can't write smut! I have a deficiency in that area), ****CitrusFresh (Ginny has uncles? Hmm, I don't remember saying that, but that's a cool guess anyway. I'm glad you have something to craze over until book 5!), ****Redbug (ha, I'm glad!), ****The Jade Princess (Nope, it wasn't James! I couldn't do that to poor Harry. *snuggles Harry*), ****DaZLinDZ (actually, I've just about fit all the D/G scenes I can in so far. But there is plenty to come, never worry), ****Mione**** G (thanks!), ****ADaRen**** (you were sick? Hope you're better!), ****Midnight (lol, glad to know you liked it), ****Rachel (Oh, lots of stories compete and even surpass mine! Check out my favorites! But thanks, compliments always make me blush…), ****Emerald Dragon (I wouldn't have been able to stand it, either. I guess that's why I wrote it, huh? Makes sense, right? Um, no… anyway, Tom's been in the castle the entire time, and I'll explain why Arsen was in Elle's bedroom later {even though there isn't any REAL important reason}), ****Jive (I know! That's what everyone thought. But I'm not that evil; I enjoy Elle as much as the next person. But nope, it wasn't James!), ****Tarawen, ****elen****, ****TheGirlWhoLived (is it? Thanks!), ****Shinga**** (hee, everyone thought I was going to kill of Elle! And yes, it was Maria! Good job on guessing), ****Korinna**** Myorin, ****charismatic, Aleydis (thanks!), ****Only happy when it rains (I like getting out of school early, but then I go back in early, heh), ****anonymous217 (nope, not James! Thanks, I'm impressed that I write long chapters, too. I never really started until this fic), ****Malfoy (thank you!), ****XFaheyX**** (I have patience because I know what's going to happen! And thanks), ****naavi (I've kept a lot of people from studying for exams – I feel kinda guilty, :)), ****Amethyst1001 (thank you!), ****A Devilish Angel, Michelle Wood (of course your name was in the thank yous. And it is again. Thank you, eventually I will write my own book, I hope!), ****Blue Lady, Glitterglue (hey, thanks for reviewing! And yep, you were right about Maria!), ****daWOODisONfire (two minutes? Wow, good job! Thank you!), ****Gilly (thanks for reviewing, then! I know, the fic's awful long, isn't it? I know there are many people who never review my story, thinking that they wouldn't matter if they did, but it does! Every review makes me very happy), ****Becky, Luna Angelus (I am? Thanks!), ****pureblood (do you mean like Krum and Hermione? And the bit with Cho and Cedric? Yeah, none of that's going to work out. My prediction is Hermione's going to end up with Ron, and Harry's either going to die or get with Ginny. But D/G is so much more fun to write!), ****Nayanya Potter (I believe Elle is seven or eight), ****LittleNymph (hee, another cliffie!), ****Su (wow, thanks! And the herbs didn't have a lot to do with anything, the weddings back then just used them), ****Blackbandit (I know! I suck at names. This chapter I tried to be a bit better, like Arsen and Ramiro and Orla), ****~*skittle1528*~ (thank you!), ****Rubyjuls1722 (thanks! It means a lot to me!), ****Nobodysbitch (eek, sorry! No shagging. I can't write it cuz I suck at it! *takes five stars and pins them on walls*), ****AgiVega (thanks for reviewing! And sorry, I just can't do the smut thing!), ****Mary (yep, it's Maria), ****Nathalie, Calendar (yep, faster!), ****Sea Chelle (thanks for the super long review! And eventually we'll find out why Tom brought them here. Hee, glad you like my Harry. And yep, I was writing from Draco's third. Thanks again!), ****Christa (D/G's mine, too!), ****shanm (ehh, I have no idea why I have so many. I doubt it's because I'm great, but thanks anyway!), ****chibitenshi (ooh, Timothy! Where has that boy gone? I don't even think I know), ****fallen pheniox, Archer (Can't wait to see the picture! And where have you been lately, darling? It's been a while since you've come out with something. Not to rush you, though, I know genuis works take a while…), ****angel15 (yep you bet!), ****sparkleygem (it was? Cool! Who'd you think the murdered one was?), ****josephine (thank you!), ****Kali Lynn, ****The Gaerie and The Phoenix (it is? Thanks! I'm glad you enjoy it. D/G rocks! And I'll be sure to read your story when I can!), ****Sierra*Sitruc (thanks!), ****Miss Spinn (thanks for all your reviews), ****Jimi (You're right! I just didn't realizer it while I was writing. But thanks anyway!), ****iluvoliverwood (hope this was long enough for you), ****Raining (why thank you), ****hpangel, moniluv325 (hee, thanks!), ****Midnight Auror (sorry to suck you up! Yes, I know it's long, heh), ****Rachel McKinnon (thanks), ****FireSprite (I know, I'm a toad…I chickened out, what I can I say! And things that are overly done should go away and never come back. I hope you get all the reviews you deserve!), ****Crystal*Lily (did you really? Thanks), ****wellduh, szaranea (they should've had night action, if I could write it), ****Dana, LilyAyl (window soaping IS fun!), ****WhiteLily (glad you liked it), ****Swim Freak (it is? Glad!), ****Sarah (good arrangement, I believe ;)), ****Brooke (geeze, all over again? Go you! Thanks), ****Daft Bugger (please don't die), ****Athena Lionfire16 (Not James!), ****Rachel, ^_^; A fan (don't cry! I've been writing), ****NNC (hee, thanks), ****2lazy2signinnow, StuntWoman (thanks for all your reviews! And lotsa cookies for you for being my 1000th reviewer! Thank you so much!), and ****StrangerWithMyFace (*grabs handful of reviews and showers them down on Emily* Yes, bathe in their glory! Hee, I'm just kidding. But it never hurts to hear that you enjoy my story…never hurts at all. I hope you get lots and lots of reviews from my plug!).**

And now I shall plug in some of the most awesome D/G stories I've come across.

**_Incendio_**** by FireSprite: http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=26005**

Summary: Dreams are drawing them closer... Draco & Ginny find themselves faced with otherworldly places, irresistable forces & magical objects. Passions fly, gods are angered & their magic powers strengthen as they realise maybe they're not alone after all.

Comments: You get chills from reading it. The details and everything are awesome. Plus, there are only a few chapters out, so go read now and you can catch up quick ;)

**_The Little Child to Lead Them_**** by StrangerWithMyFace: http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=18136 **

Summary: Draco Malfoy is a horrible person. Lord Voldemort wants an heir. Can Draco meet the greatest challenge of his life: fatherhood?

Comments: One of THE most original D/G fics around. Draco's a daddy, Ginny's hiding, and Cassie is very very adorable. Go read now.

**_Wildest Dreams _****by wmlaw: http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=43169 **

Summary: Albus Dumbledore finally found the lost Evans sister. Rose Smythe comes to Hogwarts, Harry Potter and Severus Snape will never be the same. Also, Sirius Black, Death Eaters, Draco & Ginny, Ron & Hermione!

Comments: It's actually an entire series, so I suggest reading them all. With several awesome new characters, and a Harry pairing that you've most likely never seen before, it's excellent. 


	16. The Dumbwaiter

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Chapter Sixteen**

_The Dumbwaiter_

At first, Draco thought the barn was empty. He was glad for it too, so no one would stop him. Until he remembered he was unsure how to saddle a horse.

How hard can it be? he asked silently, trying to reassure himself. It had to be very hard, though, if he didn't even know where the saddles were kept in the first place.

"Your Majesty?"

Draco managed not to leap in surprise, and instead gritted his teeth. He turned and saw the very same dirty girl who had helped him only days before.

"I – I didn't expect anyone to come out here," the girl said quickly, noticing his body tense from extreme irritation. "I thought the palace was sealed – off by the guards–"

"It is," Draco said shortly. "Go get Jack ready to ride for me, will you?"

She swallowed thickly, fidgeting but not making any attempt to do his bidding. Clearly troubled by what she should do, she told him softly, "Her Majesty Lavinia has sent orders to everyone not to let any royal member off the castle grounds –"

"She's not the Queen anymore," Draco snapped. His tone was harsher than he intended, and the young girl flinched. Quieting down a bit, he went on. "Or haven't you heard? Ginny's queen now. I'm the king. I overrule whatever Lavinia says."

She started to curtsy a bit clumsily. "Yes, Your Majesty, but –"

He interrupted her for a third time, loosing what little patience he had. "Just do it!" he ordered loudly.

The girl gasped and jumped at his abrupt anger, then nodded quickly. In a moment she'd spun on her heel and disappeared into one of the stalls at the end of the stable.

Draco felt a little pang of guilt as she scurried away. It wasn't really her fault that Lavinia was such a pain in the arse – she'd just been relaying the orders she'd been given. Besides, she didn't deserve to be ordered around. The poor girl was so thin she looked as though a slight breeze would blow her away.

He then scowled at himself. I'm going soft, he realized, noticing the sympathy he was feeling. That was just the way it worked; he opened his heart to one person, and dozens of others rushed to get in.

It was all Ginny's fault. If she hadn't managed to squeeze her way into his soul and plant herself there, like an annoying smudge on a shiny new broomstick, then nothing would be wrong. Well, actually, a lot would still be wrong, but at least Draco would still have control over his emotions. At the moment he wanted to rip Tom's lungs out at the very mere thought of him doing something to hurt her. Every time he pictured what Harry had described (Tom carrying a white bundle over his shoulder) it caused his heart to race and his mind to focus on only one thing: bringing Ginny back to the safety of the castle. No matter how hard Draco tried to tell himself otherwise, this clearly was a sign he cared for her. She'd ruined everything he had stood for and represented, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

The stable girl came back a few minutes later carrying a saddle that seemed to weigh twice as much as she did. She struggled to carry it, and Draco – damn his soft heart – rushed to help her. She gave him a tiny smile of thanks, and led them to Jack's stall.

"Show me how to do this," Draco told her, referring to saddling a horse.

He began to regret his request when the girl began to saddle Jack much slower than if she weren't demonstrating. She even explained about the rein and bit. All in all, it probably took five minutes, but every minute counted for something and each one wasted brought Ginny that much closer to her death.

Finally the task was done. Draco glanced at the girl one final time while she fondly stroked Jack's neck. She really was rather skinny, and what with the threadbare clothing and no shoes she was wearing, she had to be cold.

Cursing himself, Draco dug into his pockets to produce a handful of coins he carried around. Even in this world he had to have money in his pocket. Making a grunting noise to get her attention, he gestured for her to hold out her hand. Her mouth dropped open as she obeyed, watching with eyes the size of Galleons as he dropped all the money he had into her palm.

"Your – Your Majesty, I cannot –" she began sputtering.

"Just buy yourself some shoes," he said gruffly, avoiding her stare. "Don't tell anyone I gave it to you."

She nodded, swallowing thickly, and grasped her fingers around the coins.

"Well? Are you going to move out of my way?" Draco demanded.

She quickly moved to the side, but he could feel her smiling at him as he mounted onto the saddle with minimal struggle. He hoped he was finally getting the hang of getting on and off horses. However, it would be a very useless skill, as he had no desire to return to his world and take horse riding lessons.

Draco dug his heels into Jack's flanks and the horse cantered out of the barn, back into the frigid December air. Night was falling rapidly – it seemed Draco had a tendency to try and save Ginny whenever it was going to be dark shortly. It was a habit he would have to grow out of, he knew. Or even better, a habit that he would never like to form.

Now that he had a horse and could leave the castle, he wasn't sure where to head. Tom could've gone anywhere, and easily covered his tracks. Still, Draco decided to go back to the one door that wasn't guarded, hoping to find some sort of path Tom might have used when escaping.

Just to Draco's good luck, he found hoof prints in the snow, at the edge of the forest near the stairway outlet to the secret door. He followed the path with his eyes, and found it went deep into the woods.

So far, it seemed like a good plan to just follow it and see where it got him.

Gripping the reins in his rapidly-freezing fingers, trying to burrow his neck deeper into his doublet collar, he nudged Jack once more into a flat out gallop, hoping the ride wouldn't be too long.

* * *

Consciousness came slowly to Ginny, and the first time it did, her vision wasn't clear. She had the sensation she was bobbing up and down, almost jerkily, and wondered what on earth could be happening to her.

It took her quite a few moments to realize she was on a running horse, sitting up, with both legs on one side, and leaning back against someone's firm and warm chest. Not fully realizing or remembering what had caused her to be here, she let her eyelids fall back closed, feeling a false sense of security.

When she awoke again, she grasped what was going on and blinked the drowsiness from her eyes quickly. She rubbed her face, thought a moment on her last memory, and hurriedly sat up.

The room she was in was dim, there being no candles, and only darkness penetrated the windows. She was able to see clearly enough, though, because her eyes adjusted easily.

She was on a large bed, but it had no bedcovers – it was a plain mattress. Up against one wall was a large wardrobe. Opposite that was a rather unattractive boarded-up spot in the stone wall, as if someone incredibly strong had punched a hole through it and had yet to fix it. Its appearance didn't bother Ginny at all because she was far too worried about where she was and how she would ever get out.

She pushed herself to the side of the bed, glanced down at herself, and found she was still wearing her ridiculously fluffy wedding dress. The corset still pinched her waist irritably.

Trying to clear her head from the aftermath of the potion, she stood and took a few steps around the large empty, room. Vertigo bothered her only for a moment, and she hoped that meant that whatever ingredient had been in the potion Maria gave her had lost its effect.

_Maria! Ginny thought suddenly. It had been her maid the entire time! She had been thinking herself into migraines trying to figure out who on earth would help Tom commit such heinous crimes, and Maria had never crossed her mind. Not once. Not even remotely._

The one person she figured she could trust in this world had been stabbing her in the back the entire time. And now she was here, in this room, and – Ginny tried the door – locked in; imprisoned. Tom had her just where he could use her and she had no hopes of escape.

There were only two windows in the room, both high up, at least a foot above Ginny's head. She clambered onto the bed to see outside, but the only thing in her field of view was dark blue sky. When the wind blew, a few bare branches would wave and scratch against the glass.

Well, so she was high up. It didn't mean she couldn't somehow break the window and jump down . . . and _break both my legs and be writhing helpless in the cold, she added vulnerably. Even if she did manage to find something to smash the glass, she would have trouble climbing up to the ledge._

The windows were definitely an option she could cross off her list.

Hopping off her bed, managing to keep from stumbling over her skirt, she returned to the door and tried it again. The knob was locked firmly no matter how hard she tried to twist it. At that moment she wanted her wand more than anything in the world.

The knob was an option she could cross off as well. She placed her palms on the heavy wood of the door and pushed, just to see how strong and sturdy it was. It was like rock. It didn't budge at all.

Frustration and fear filled her throat, and she let out a short scream. Balling her hands into fists, she pounded on the wood, hearing the thuds soften and quiet in the depth of the door.

Why wasn't anything going right? She was either going to be a pawn in a wicked scheme of Tom Riddle's, or she was going to be killed. Here. Away from her family – in an entirely different planet, where the one person who even showed caring for her being the one she'd despised her whole life: Draco Malfoy. Why was it happening to her?

She hadn't done anything to deserve this. Despite the fact she knew she couldn't best her older brothers because they had done anything and everything that could be considered an honor at Hogwarts, she had tried her hardest at schoolwork, and done well enough. She hadn't been made prefect or Head Girl, and she hadn't made her house Quidditch team, and she wasn't wildly popular by any means. But she'd had a few good friends and she was perfectly content. She hadn't intentionally hurt anyone, even those few Slytherins who still enjoyed making fun of her for being a Weasley. She'd done everything as she should have, and still she was in the worst situation imaginable.

And there was no hope at all of getting out. It would almost be best if Tom killed her.

Ginny moved away from the door and fell down onto the bed, burying her face into the mattress and letting go the flow of tears she'd held back for the past three weeks. It almost helped ventilate the pain and sorrow she felt – almost.

She had been crying so hard she didn't hear the door open. She felt a breeze of cool air and felt as if someone was in the room, and sat up hastily. Tom had stepped in carrying a candle and its holder, with Maria behind him. Contrary to the expression that had been on her face when she'd left Ginny with the potion, she now looked positively thrilled. Her dark eyes sparkled with a malevolent light, and the corners of her mouth were curled into an arrogant sneer.

How could she have changed so suddenly?

Ginny felt like she had no energy left. She sat limply and stared at them both, waiting for them to say something. The door gaped open behind Maria, but Ginny made no move to run past them. It would be useless.

Maria obviously thought she might try to bolt, so she shut the door in a hurry when she noticed it was still ajar.

"What's this about?" Ginny asked tonelessly. "If you're to kill me, then just get it over with."

"I'm not going to kill you," Tom answered instantly. He, too, looked pleased and had what resembled a grin on his face. "If I were to kill you, I would've had Maria do it ages ago."

Ginny's eyes flicked to Maria, who was still in her maid uniform. Somehow, she seemed larger now, dangerous . . . even the uniform did nothing to hide the fact.

Tom, too, was looking at Maria. "Leave," he snapped at her.

She nodded, casting one last hard glance on Ginny, and left the room.

"I've brought you here because you need to help me," said Tom once the door was shut firmly. He placed the candle beside the wardrobe, and then crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed. The mattress sunk lower with his added weight, causing Ginny to slide a bit closer to him. Placing her hands down, she moved away, not liking the feel of his body so near her. "You and Draco both," he added smoothly.

Ginny lifted her eyebrows, and couldn't help but be slightly interested enough to ask, "Is he here? Did you bring him here too?"

"No," Tom replied, and the flicker of hope died in Ginny's chest. "But he will be here shortly. I was sure to leave plenty of clues for him to follow."

Ginny felt guilty for wanting Draco beside her, for wanting him to be put at jeopardy with her, but she couldn't help it. Praying that Draco was indeed coming, she went ahead and demanded, "Where are we?"

"Another castle," Tom said simply. "It's not very far from the one you've been living in. But Muggles can't see it."

At the familiar word Ginny's heart leaped ever so slightly. "Muggles?" she repeated. "We're – I'm magical?"

"Of course," he told her, looking almost angry with her for not thinking such before. "Even I can't take the magic from you and Mr. Malfoy's bodies. I just made sure you did not have your wands in this world with you."

"But . . ." Ginny trailed off, unsure of how to word her thoughts. If she was magical, then why hadn't Lavinia's eyebrows vanished when Ginny became furious with her? Why hadn't her dress caught fire? Why hadn't the little signs – the signs that she grew up with before she bought her wand when she was younger that proved she was indeed a witch – occurred at all? "Why hasn't anything happened?" she finished weakly, hoping that Tom would understand what she meant and explain.

He did. Smiling almost serenely, he said, "I can control some of your magic. I've always been nearby, Ginny, when you were never aware. Especially when you were with your mother. I knew you were hostile towards her. I made sure that your magic spurred by anger was kept under control."

Ginny bit her lower lip, disappointed. Well, what did it matter? She had no wand – there was no way she could do big magic to save herself anyway. Still, it gave her the creeps to think that Tom had always been watching her.

"Why don't you just tell me," Ginny began, "why you brought Draco and me here. I think it's rather unfair to keep us here without us knowing."

"Who said anything about being fair?" Tom said. "There is no fair. There is only what I do. You can't change anything, and fate can't change anything. Only I can. Here, in my world, you belong to me."

It was almost as if Ginny were washed with a sudden wave of being eleven years old again, and writing in her perfect diary and talking to perfect Tom. He had owned her then, she had belonged to him, and she hadn't even known it. Now she did, and there still wasn't anything in her– or anyone else's – control that she could do. It seemed worse knowing she was older and was more capable of handling herself, and that she just couldn't possibly do such a thing. It felt like a snake was writhing in her insides, to the point where she felt she needed to vomit.

The feeling of nausea passed, and Ginny forced herself to meet Tom's eyes again. He was smiling knowingly at her, playing with her mind and trying to get her to believe he could see inside her skull and read what she was thinking. She tried not to fall for it.

"Just tell me why we're here," she said in a hoarse whisper.

"Well, this makes for a wonderful story," Tom said, standing up and turning to face her. "It's one of my rather brilliant moves, I believe, much like the diary you were fortunate enough to find in your first year."

"This has nothing to do with the diary," Ginny spat, only hoping what she was saying was truthful.

"Not directly," Tom said delicately. "It is a similar concept.

"When I was rising to power," he began, staring blankly at a spot above her and out the window, "during Harry Potter's fifth year, I knew there was a strong chance I could be reduced to what I had been for years. As it is apparent, Ginny, I have no desire to return to that state of . . . of weakness. So, to avoid such happenings, I developed one of the most complex things in wizarding history – the most complex, rather. No one has done it, and no one probably ever will again. No one is powerful enough."

"What is it?" Ginny interrupted, impatient.

Tom ignored her. "It took me a good two years to fully complete it. I was lucky to finish it before Harry Potter finished me in reality. Of course, when I'd created it, I hadn't even perceived I would die. I just suspected I'd loose use of my body for a short while.

"Either way, this world I've created serves the purpose. It took me quite a few months to decide who I would use as my players in my Game, as I like to call it."

_Game? Ginny thought faintly. __This is a game to him?_

"I decided on you, Ginny, because I've controlled you before," he said matter-of-factly, the chill in his voice running through Ginny's body like ice. "Once you've been controlled, it is very simple to be so again. You were an easy choice.

"But where power is concerned, you have none. In the wizarding world, no one fears you or respects you. Your name is even very rarely known. So I needed someone else, someone who could aid you and help you – or rather, us – on our way to have power over everyone in the world."

So far, he was making absolutely zero sense. Ginny almost cut in, but decided he sounded nowhere near done, and let him finish.

"Then, one day, it came to me. The Solution had been right under my nose. One of my faithful and useful followers had a son who attended Hogwarts and was graduating soon. He had yet to be initiated as a Death Eater, but had plans on doing so on his twentieth birthday.

"I told no one of the creation of my world, of course, and my Death Eater did not need to know I was going to be using his son. I am used to getting what I want, Ginny, without having permission." Ginny thought he was stating the obvious, but didn't reply. "So now I had my players, and my world was well along being created. I just managed to finish it before that June night in 1998 when Harry Potter escaped my clutches one final time, taking my life. It was fortunate I had completed it, because now, it is my only key to regain my power."

There was a long stretch of silence, and Tom went on staring out the window. Now Ginny was even more puzzled. He hadn't explained anything that made any sense whatsoever.

"I don't understand," she said bluntly.

He fixed his gaze on her, his expression unreadable. He looked far away, deep in his thoughts.

"How did you make this world? How could you put us here?" she fired quickly. She almost liked him when he was angry, because at least he wouldn't keep staring at her in that weird way, like he was looking through her.

"Dark Magic," Tom said quietly. "Months and years of difficult, complex, mind-boggling Dark Magic that no one but I, as Lord Voldemort, could do. When I had created an entire atmosphere, an entire place where someone could live and not know the difference between it and the real world, I added my players. My pieces. Which would include you, Draco, myself . . . and Maria."

"Maria?" Ginny had almost forgotten about her. "She's magical, as well?"

Tom gave a short laugh, and his eyes focused a bit more on her. "No, she is not real. I created her specifically. Everyone else in this world – besides Harry Potter – was made by chance. Maria, however, served a purpose. She would aid me, without knowing anything about me, to help me get you. She still thinks you a queen, in fact."

Ginny's head was swimming, and it caused a headache to even begin to sort out what he was saying. "So . . . why is she helping you? Because you're controlling her?"

"No, she is doing this voluntarily," he said with a twisted smile. "She loathes the sight of you, Ginny

But . . . _why? Maria had seemed to love her, as much as a servant was allowed to love their charge. Why had she acted so differently than she felt?_

"Maria thinks this world is her world, and that there is no other," he said.

"When making this world," he added, "I made an entire universe that seems like reality to those who live in it. The people who actually do live in it and think it is all that there is . . . they were just created by random. Do you follow me?"

Ginny stared, trying to figure things out. Her brain was still heavy from the potion she had drunk. Still she attempted to sort what he was saying. "Is it sort of like if you want a certain color, and you want blue, it doesn't matter if the blue is royal or light or denim as long as it's the color blue?"

Tom nodded slowly. "Almost. I see the connection you are trying to make. By making this place, I used my magic to create two kings, a queen, and a young princess. How they turned out was not my doing. Their personalities, their features . . . complete chance."

Ginny thought she understood. It wasn't rational, but it made sense in a way.

"As for Harry Potter, I added him into this world only to make it . . . difficult," Tom went on. "I remember very well how much you adored him in your first year. I knew that if he hated you, it would make everything harder. I didn't want you to become too comfortable in your role as royalty."

Ginny snorted in disbelief. Even without Harry her role wouldn't have been close to easy.

"So I had my own world that was completely made by magic, and I had those who I wanted to put in the world, and not know how they came to be here. The moment Potter killed me, my spirit left the real world and came here. Into my former human body, the body of Tom Riddle. I spent the summer and fall months building my magical abilities, becoming as powerful as I was as Lord Voldemort in the real world."

He paused and stared at Ginny, forcing her to look directly at him. "I am the only one in this world who can do magic, Ginny," he said softly, and reached into his trouser pocket. A moment later he removed his wand.

Ginny gaped almost hungrily at it. Parts of her itched to jump on Tom and wrestle him to the ground and take it from him, but she knew she would loose. And if she did win it, then what? She didn't know any possible spell that could take her out of this world. She was stuck.

"Even though I was dead in your world," said Tom, continuing his story, "I was alive here. It was only a matter of time before you and Draco would come and join me."

Ginny hurried to interrupt. "But what about the time before we came here? Who was in our place? When we came here, people knew us as the Princess and Prince, but if this world had been going on before we even arrived, then how –"

"Another magic feat I was able to accomplish," Tom answered with a tiny smile. "When I had finally managed to become powerful with magic once more, I was able, on the date I desired to do so, bring you here from within this universe."

"Yes, that's all very well, but you still haven't answered my question," Ginny told him snappishly.

Tom didn't react to her annoyed tone, but he did reply to her question. "Since everyone here is my work, my creation, I can control their minds and how they think and what they remember. I had them go to sleep one night, your parents thinking they had no children, everyone in the palace thinking they only had a King and Queen to look after, and then had them wake up with an entire memory of you and who you are and what you were like. The same thing applied with Mr. Malfoy. It wasn't easy; I'll admit that to you, Ginny. No one but someone very powerful could have done it. And in this case, I happen to be the only one who fits that title."

"So you just put false thoughts into people's minds?" Ginny demanded. Actually, she was rather impressed. Her brothers Fred and George had always been looking for ways to magically place Potions facts into their brains so they'd know it on their exams, but they – or anyone else, for that matter – had never been able to do such. From what Ginny had heard, it was impossible.

But Tom had basically done it.

Still, she had to ask, "If you can control everyone here, then why were you so afraid that I would do magic in front of Lavinia? If I had, couldn't you just have erased her memory?"

"Of course I could have, but changing how one thinks and what one remembers takes time. I do not have time to waste," Tom added a bit dramatically. "It was much easier just to make sure she didn't witness any magic."

"And you don't reveal to Maria what you really are?" Ginny pressed. "You don't let her witness your magic, either?"

Tom grinned dryly. "She shall find out soon enough. I know she will. But it's working well so far without her knowing anything, so I'm satisfied."

Ginny frowned at him, but let him continue.

"The day after I brought you and Draco here, I was trying to devise some sort of way I could get into the castle without having to be a servant. Then news spread quickly that you were sick, and it was the perfect excuse to get in the castle with you." Tom looked incredibly pleased with something, perhaps himself.

"You made people believe they'd heard of you and that you were a world-famous doctor?" pressed Ginny.

"Yes. And of course if they thought they knew me, and thought they'd heard all about me, then the King and Queen were very eager to let me in to the castle and remain, even after I'd cured you," he said.

Ginny nodded, but she still had a million other things she wanted to ask. It was becoming clearer, though not everything was evident yet. "Why this time period?" she settled on saying first.

"If I were to place you in a world of Muggles," said Tom silkily, "then I did not want it to be in the twentieth century. I wanted something ancient, something primitive, where Muggles didn't have any motorized vehicles or electricity . . . I also wanted to place you in a role of supreme power. This date in history seemed best for what I wanted to achieve."

Ginny nodded once again, and glanced down at the floor. It was then she realized he hadn't told her the most important thing of all – why he had chosen her and Draco to come back with him. When she asked him this, his eyes took on that glazed look once more, and he spoke lazily.

"I am dead, Ginny. In the time, and the world, that I need to be in, I am dead. I need a body to use, and carry out my plans that I never had the chance to finish. I still need to kill Harry Potter, and I have yet to rule everything. And being dead, I can't do this without help."

"And you expect me to help you?" Ginny scoffed.

"You don't have a choice," Tom said nastily, sneering. "My power surpasses beyond anything you can imagine."

His voice was so cold it was like swallowing ice. Ginny tried not to shiver.

"I no longer have a body in the future," said Tom, continuing his explanation. "I have no spirit or existence of any sort. But here I do. Here, I am almost human. And I have brought you here specifically to help me have an existence during the time I need it – nearly four hundred years from now.

"I will put my soul, my life into your body, Ginny," Tom said chillingly. "When I controlled you with my diary, I used your strength to help form my own body. But since I am dead, that will not work this time. Now, in order to survive in the future, I shall use you. In a way, you will be dying. With my soul within your body, Virginia Weasley will no longer exist, but I will. And much like I had done on my rise to power, I will use magic to transform myself – or rather, your body – into a fearsome creature, one that all wizards, witches, Mudbloods, and Muggles will fear. I'll be Lord Voldemort once again."

Ginny just barely managed to ask in a trembling voice, "Why me?"

Tom shrugged nonchalantly. "I have already told you this. I've controlled you before. The moment my soul enters your body, your soul – that has already been weakened by me six years ago – will vanish, much like a flame being blown out. Anyone else, any other person who I had not yet conquered, would struggle to live for at least another year. I would be sharing their body with them, and I chose not to do so. You are the best choice, and with help from young Mr. Malfoy, you will definitely serve the right purpose for what I am going to do."

Ginny blinked, thinking for a moment that it was the after-effects of the potion blurring her vision, but finding it was tears. Aghast that she would cry in front of Tom, she hurried to wipe them off with the back of her hand. "How will Draco help?" she asked quietly, staring down at her lap and avoiding his gaze.

"He has more power than you, Ginny," Tom said, in almost a whisper. "People cringe when they hear the name Malfoy, do they not? His father is respected by all of my most faithful followers, and the only reason I did not choose to bring Lucius here was because I knew that Draco has far more will, far more energy do to what I wish."

"But how could he help?" Ginny repeated weakly.

"You are nothing extraordinary," Tom said, almost spitting the words as though it was something to be ashamed of. "By myself, with your mediocre powers in my possession, I would not accomplish anything. Draco will help me become just as great as I was when I lived as Lord Voldemort."

"Draco won't do that," Ginny said, using slight force, though not entirely believing what she was saying. "He's not like his father."

"He will help me," Tom said silkily, "if he believes it's what you want."

Ginny snapped her head up to stare at him, and he smiled coldly.

"He's fallen in love with you, can't you see?" Tom whispered. "He will do what I ask of him, if he believes it's you who's asking him. By the time he realizes what is happening, it will be too late. I will be able to continue becoming powerful without his help, and kill him."

Ginny's heart thumped unpleasantly. She began to wish feverishly that she hadn't demanded to know the explanation of why she had been pulled out of her world to come here. The truth was a million times worse than the wondering had been.

She took a minute to try and swallow around the large lump in her throat, preparing to ask him dozens more questions, but he headed towards the door.

"I will send Maria in," he said, his hand on the handle, "but remember, she doesn't know anything."

With a final smirk over his shoulder, he strode from the room, leaving Ginny with her sinking heart and depressed thoughts.

Before she could think much on the matter, Maria hurried in, closing the door. There was a click of the lock from the outside, and Maria, satisfied, walked over and stood before Ginny, much like Tom had been earlier.

"Hello, Your Majesty," Maria drawled.

How could Ginny have ever not noticed how dark her eyes were? Like Professor Snape's, only . . . eviler. Cold, depthless, malicious . . . like perfectly round slabs of icy black rock.

"I suppose you are wondering about a lot of things right now," Maria said with a sickening scowl. "Perhaps why I am working with your doctor to have you killed?"

Ginny instantly assumed the only reason Maria was actually going along with Tom's plan was because she thought they would only murder Ginny. She was hopelessly mistaken, and Ginny would bet ten Galleons that once everything had been done, Maria would be killed.

"He's no doctor," Ginny argued dully, knowing it was no use. "He's a wizard."

"He is brilliant," Maria said smoothly, misunderstanding what Ginny meant by wizard. "I am surprised he kept you alive this long. I would have let you die with that sickness, personally. But this way works, as well. I am going to thoroughly enjoy watching you die."

Ginny was not frightened the least by these threats, knowing a fate far worse was coming to her. She would be the death of Draco, and it would be her body that would wreak havoc once again on the wizarding world. What would her family say? Would they think it was really her?

Still, she was slightly confused as to why Maria had acted so kindly to her before when she'd really wanted to slit her throat in her sleep. So she asked tonelessly, "Why do you hate me?"

Maria threw her head back and laughed, a laugh higher and just as cold as Tom's. She met Ginny's eyes once again and replied, "Hate is not a strong enough word, Ginny. There is no word in the language I can use that would begin to describe my feelings towards you."

"Then why were you so nice to me?" Ginny said shrilly.

Maria's face hardened, and she looked remarkably like a wrinkly old bulldog. Ginny had always thought she was pleasantly plump, but now found her repulsive. "What an idiotic question, you stupid girl. You would have run off and complained to Mummy and dear Daddy about how I was not treating you like a Princess. And I would have been fired in a snap of the fingers.

"I shall tell you this, Ginny – if it were not for the knowledge that someday I would get revenge on you, I would not have stuck around. From the moment you were old enough to talk, you were calling me names, sometimes ordering the cook not to serve me food because I had not hung your dress up properly and caused a few miniscule folds in the silk. I hated it. I only stayed with you because . . ." She trailed off, getting a misty look in her cold eyes, before snapping her eyelids quickly as though realizing she was saying too much. "Well, the point is not why I stayed," she hurriedly said, though Ginny quite disagreed, she thought that was entirely the point, "but what you had me do. You only got worse and worse as you grew older. Finally, I could not stand it.

"It was then I met Tom. He, too, wanted revenge on you, and we formed an incredible plan that will not fail. We will blame your murder on Draco Malfoy. It will be perfect. I can finally do what I have longed to do for so many years."

Maria finished, smiling proudly. Then it faded, noticing the bored look on Ginny's face. Nothing Maria said could affect her. Nothing she said mattered.

"And just to tell you," Maria added in a low, icy tone, "I killed Lily Potter."

The comment was so unexpected Ginny felt her blank expression change into that of interest, and Maria, seeing she had caught her attention, went on.

"It was not Lavinia. I lied and told you, and for some entirely odd reason, you believed me. I thought you knew your mother. She may be incredibly snobby, much like you, but she would never kill anyone. It was I who brought Lily along with me in the forest, and managed, while she was not paying attention, to shoot her full of arrows. It took her very long to die, and she was crying because of the death of her baby, not because she was dying . . . that is the pathetic way Lily's been, always thinking of others before her self . . . But finally she did die, and I was glad. I was glad she was gone."

Ginny, who had gone very white and very numb, gripped a handful of her wedding skirt. Of all the things . . . she had not thought she would hear this. She had figured she'd taken all the surprises she could in one day . . . hell, she'd gotten married not seven hours ago . . . but now she was being told that Maria had murdered Harry's mother.

"However, everyone does believe it was Lavinia who killed her," Maria said. "I was sure to use arrows that the castle guards used. No one suspected me. Just like no one will suspect that I have killed you."

Ginny felt white-hot rage suddenly shoot through her, and she wanted nothing more than to dig her nails deep into the soft, wrinkly flesh of Maria's neck. Before she did anything of the sort, she demanded bitterly through gritted teeth, "Why'd you kill her? Did you hate her, too?"

"I simply loathed _perfect Lily!" Maria shouted, her loud voice causing Ginny to jump. "She took everything that ever meant something to me! When I was so sure I was going to be hired as the Queen's personal handmaid, Lily ends up taking the position! When all she had ever done was be a lowly scullery maid, while I had run the chores around the entire castle! And then she married James and had a son and had the perfect family . . . and then, the King chooses her over me! He must have gotten tired of me, and decided that Lily would be more of a challenge, but she did not even want him . . ."_

Maria stopped suddenly, once again giving the impression she'd said too much.

Ginny raised her eyebrows, wondering if maybe she'd been mistaken about her parents all along – maybe her father was the one to scorn at, not her mother. It disturbed her to think that he was the type who slept around with his servants.

"Anyway, none of that matters," said Maria with a shiver. "In a few minutes you will be dead, and I will be free of you."

Then she stood abruptly and went to the door, knocking on it. She threw one final glare and scowl back at Ginny before Tom opened the door and let her out. If Ginny had had the energy, she might've tried to escape, but as it was she was feeling like a limp noodle. Seconds later, she was alone and once again locked inside the room.

She sat and stared at the wall trying to go over everything she had learned. After a few minutes her eyelids drooped heavily, threatening to send her into a deep sleep. But she couldn't allow herself to fall asleep; she needed to be awake and somewhat alert. No matter what happened, Tom wasn't invading her body without her giving a good struggle.

Though, she tried to remind herself, she would have more strength if she did sleep . . .

She stood up and began pacing, blinking furiously and trying to think. There were still so many things that needed to be answered . . . like why was Dumbledore here? Ginny was beginning to suspect that maybe Tom didn't know of him. He hadn't explained anything about him. Maybe Ginny should've gone to him when she had first had the chance.

Well, it was too late now. If he was there to help them, the only hope she had right now was that he would come and save her. Still, that prayer didn't reassure her very much.

And what was going on in the future? Was everyone noticing her absence? How would Tom explain her being gone for nearly three weeks?

_I can't sit here and wonder, Ginny told herself resolutely, trying to shake off her fatigue. She would have to do something. What use was it to her to pace and think about things she couldn't answer?_

She glanced around the room, once again thinking about her options. Window – too far up. Door – too heavy and locked. Walls – too solid to break through, and nothing with which to attempt it. But then there was that boarded up part . . . why was it boarded, anyway?

Ginny stepped up to it, wrapping her fingers around the edge of one of the wood boards. The boards weren't very big – about as long as her arms, and only a bit wider – but they were nailed firmly to the wall. One board was crossed over the rest of them, making it even more difficult.

Ginny frowned. If it was so heavily nailed down, then it had to be hiding something important, didn't it?

She tugged on the top wooden piece, yanking as hard as she could. It moved only slightly. She pulled again. It moved a bit more.

It took her nearly two minutes to pry the top board off, and all she had to show for it were four more boards, and three splinters in her fingertips. Still, she felt proud that she'd been able to yank it out, and started on another.

Several times she stopped her work because she thought she heard footsteps coming towards her door. She knew the next time Tom or Maria came they would be there to perform the "murder".

Once Ginny had gotten an edge board off, she saw it _was covering a hole in the wall, only it wasn't one somebody had punched. It was square or rectangular – she could tell by the corners that were visible. Hope swelling within her, she continued._

Another three minutes . . . the third board came off, and only two remained. Inside, the hole was black and she couldn't see anything. She would need to pry the rest off and grab the candle to see what was inside.

About five minutes went by, and finally, Ginny wrenched the final board off. She dropped it to the floor, squinting in the bad light at her hands. They were bleeding – she could feel it – and there were many splinters. Still, she had done what she'd wanted, and was now facing a rectangle in the wall that resembled some sort of compartment.

Ginny retrieved the candleholder and candle that Tom had placed by the wardrobe and hurried back. She stuck the candle into the void and lit up the hole. It took Ginny a second to realize what it was.

It was a dumbwaiter. There was a pulley and rope near the front, and Ginny took the candle out and leaned a hand to grab one of the ropes. Glancing down, she couldn't see anything but endless black. Glancing up, she saw solid rock. She must be on the top floor of the castle.

Beginning to feel some excitement, she set the down candle on the floor beside her and began to pull the rope along. It creaked and groaned; it had evidently not been used in some time, and it seemed to be protesting against being used again.

A few seconds later, Ginny brought the shelf and lined it directly with the ledge of the opening, the pulley the only thing separating the two. She released the rope, and it didn't fall – she'd had to pull on the ropes quite strongly for it to move.

She stood back, and looked around the room once more. The dumbwaiter was her only chance of escape. Tom had boarded it up, and hopefully he wasn't planning on Ginny prying the wood off and using it. Parts of her thought Tom wouldn't be daft enough to overlook such a thing; that if he hadn't wanted her to use it, he would've magically put the boards there so they couldn't be removed at all. But either way, getting out of the room was better than sitting and waiting, and she had to at least try. When she thought about how she'd just flushed the chance away to go and see Dumbledore, she made up her mind; she wasn't going to pass another opportunity for help just because she suspected Tom had something to do with it.

The dumbwaiter was wide enough for her to get in, but only just. Ginny knew instantly she would have to loose the layers of her fluffy wedding dress.

Quickly, she sat on the bed and pulled her flat, square-toed shoes off. That done she stood and tried to reach back and undo her bodice. It took her five tries to finally reach the buttons, and when she did, she found it was at such an awkward position she couldn't unbutton them. Frustrated, knowing that precious time was slipping away from her, Ginny resorted to something she wished she didn't have to do – she tore at the bodice so it would rip apart by the buttons. It took several tugs, but at last she was able to pull it away, revealing her corset.

With some sadness Ginny let her ruined bodice drop to the ground, then, pushing it from her mind as well, began on the skirt. This was easier – there was only one clasp and the frilly skirt slid down to the floor. Underneath it was her hoop skirt, which was also easy to remove. The hoop had really been the only thing holding her back, but she thought it would be easier to move around if she took off her petticoat, and it would be much more comfortable to get rid of her corset.

The petticoat had an elastic waist and was off in a flash; however, the corset was something far more difficult. Maria had always put it on and taken it off for her. There were far too many laces to do by herself, but she found that once she untied the bottom, the ties slid right through their holes and the corset came away.

At last she could breathe.

She was left with her cotton, lace-trimmed white smock and her thick white stockings, which were held up above her knees with annoying garters. Ginny thought it best to keep them on – it was cold in the castle, and they kept her somewhat warm.

After she shoved her shoes back on, the blood from her scraped fingers staining the white satin, she returned to the dumbwaiter. She lowered the shelf a bit so she could climb through the opening and step on to it. She had to hoist herself up – the ledge was about waist-height – but she managed, and within minutes she was seated on the dumbwaiter's shelf, gripping the ropes tightly to keep it from crashing down with her weight.

Ginny threw one last glance at the door and listened. Silence. She would leave now or never.

Taking a deep breath, she began to pull along the ropes. The shelf squeaked and groaned, moving slowly, but it seemed to be able to hold her effortlessly enough. Soon, what light there had been in her room became smaller, and the tiny chute she was in was just about pitch dark.

She wasn't sure where she was going. Half of her was praying the shelf wouldn't give out and have her fall to her death, and the other half was that she wouldn't stop in a room where Tom and Maria were staying.

She found that not all the openings to rooms were open – the rest had shutters, and they were closed. Ginny wasn't paying enough attention and almost passed by the first room she came across. It took her a moment to realize shutters were blocking out the light.

Pausing, she held the ropes and listened. No sounds were coming from within the room. Was it safe to peek out?

Well, she was going to anyway. She pushed the shutters open, and they did so simply. The room was empty of anyone, and it appeared to be some sort of room that hadn't been used in a while. The furniture was covered with ghostly white sheets, giving an eerie feel to it.

"This is my stop," Ginny muttered, happy to have found the first room to be vacant so she could get off the creaky dumbwaiter.

It was a struggle getting off, trying to get past the ropes and hold them at the same time so that the shelf wouldn't fall with her still half on it, but she managed. She fell ungracefully to the floor in a heap, but it didn't matter – she was feeling just about as happy as she ever had in this world. She'd escaped her locked room, she was still alive after the shimmy down the dumbwaiter chute, and she just might be able to leave the castle in time to meet Draco along the way back and warn him.

She tried to forget the fact that even if this happened, she still wouldn't have a way home, and she would be stuck in a world where Tom would be constantly after her.

* * *

The hoof prints in the snow led right to a dark castle, right off the woods. Draco looked up at it, the outline just about invisible against the black sky, and smirked. How perfectly wonderful.

Draco was almost able to smoothly swing his leg over the saddle and jump off Jack, if his foot hadn't gotten caught in the stirrup and sent him crashing to the ground. He bit back a loud curse, afraid someone might hear, and glanced up at his foot still hanging in the stirrup, Jack tossing his head and snorting as if to mock him.

"Yeah, laugh it up," Draco said under his breath, getting to his feet and feeling secretly thankful that he hadn't twisted his ankle or wounded it horribly.

He left Jack at the bottom of the stairs, hoping he wouldn't run away, and went up to the front door. It was heavy and wooden, like much of the doors were in the world. Yet to his surprise, it was open.

Draco stood before the threshold, debating whether he should bring Jack with him. It would be easier to ride in on a horse and maybe, perhaps, trample over Tom before he could manage to shout deadly curses . . . no, Draco though, realizing how absurd it was. He didn't want to put Jack in harms way, because despite the idiot animal having laughed at him when he'd fallen, he'd developed a fondness for him.

So Draco went in alone, closing the door carefully behind him. He had entered a huge foyer, much bigger than the one he had at Malfoy Manor back home . . . it even rivaled the one at Ginny's palace. Still, it was dark, cold, and empty, void of any furniture or signs of life.

Draco found himself hurrying across it.

He had no idea where to head first. For all he knew, he could end up turning a corner and smack right into Tom. He had no desire to do this; he was pretty sure that Riddle would kill him on sight. Or would he?

_Maybe, Draco realized, __Riddle left those hoof prints in the snow purposely for me to follow._

Well, obviously. Tom wouldn't have been as stupid and forgetful as to erase evidence like that, if he hadn't wanted anyone to know.

Draco went on, shaking his head and murmuring to himself.

He walked around for nearly ten minutes, blank corridor after blank corridor, hearing and seeing nothing. Every so often he'd look into a room, but he knew that if he didn't hear any voices from within, it was empty.

Just when he was about to stop and scream out his arrival to the entire castle, he rounded a corner and did find himself being attacked. However, it wasn't by Tom. It was Ginny.

She pounded his chest once or twice with her fists before she noticed it was him. Furious, Draco gripped her wrists tightly in both of his hands, and said angrily, "Calm down, Weasley, it's only me."

Her pale face broke out into a relieved smile. "Good," she said breathlessly, but her happy look soon faded.

Draco didn't pay attention. He released her wrists and glanced down at her. "What are you doing in your knickers?" he asked, his head suddenly filled with thoughts of Tom.

"It's just a smock," Ginny said absently, but didn't elaborate. It looked more like a loose nightdress, if you asked Draco. "Come on, Draco, we've got to leave before Tom notices I'm gone. He's been expecting you –"

She took his hand and started to lead him down the corridor, back the way he came.

"I figured he was," Draco told her. "Hasn't he noticed you're gone already? How did you get away from him?"

"It's a long story, Draco, and I promise I'll tell you as soon as we're away from here," Ginny said quickly, turning another corner. "Is this the way out?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I lost track of where I was."

Ginny threw him an irritated glance over her shoulder. "Great." Then she added, "Did you come on a horse?"

"No, I flew on a broomstick," Draco sniggered.

She turned her head again and opened her mouth to say something, but didn't get the chance. She stopped walking and stared over Draco's shoulder, her lips drooping with disappointment and her eyes darkening. Draco knew who it was without even having to turn; but he did, and sure enough, Tom stood at the end of the corridor. With Ginny's maid Maria.

"How good of you to come, Draco," Tom said coolly, a wand grasped in his hand. "But I'm afraid we don't need you at the moment."

Ginny's grip on Draco's hand tightened, and she took a step closer to him involuntarily. Draco had to admit he was feeling something very rare; fear.

"_Stupefy," Tom hissed, wand pointed at Draco's chest._

He had no time to react. In an instant his mind went blank, his vision faded, and he was unconscious before he hit the floor.

* * *

A/N: Another cliffhanger, and once again, a chapter void of any D/G action. But at least you now know what's going on, for the most part.

If you want an update on the story, or just plain don't understand what Tom was talking about, email me. I'll try to answer your questions. Or you can always join the Yahoo group http://groups.yahoo.com/group/firespriteandmochabutterfly/.

Special thanks to Tia for beta'ing, Elaine for helping with dialogue, and Amy for reading it over and making sure it made sense.

This is probably the first time in a long time I haven't even at least _listed the reviewers, but right now I'm so short on time and it's just about the first day ff.net's been up strong that I just decided to go ahead and post. _

But thanks anyway to all those who did review!

By the way: a bit of good news – chapter 17 is almost written. It shouldn't be long before it's out.


	17. Abrogo Anima

**_Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._**

**Chapter 17**

_Abrogo__ Anima_

Ginny didn't feel anything except dread as Draco's hand slipped from hers and he fell in a heap on the floor.  She swallowed thickly, blinked, and glanced up at Tom.  He gave her a smug, half smile, while Maria stood behind him and clearly had trouble containing her glee. 

"Maria," Tom said without looking away from Ginny, "go back to the room and prepare everything."

Maria nodded and hurried away to do what he asked.

"Come," he said quietly to Ginny.

He flicked his wand at Draco, who immediately rose into the air, feet hovering inches above the ground.  His chin dropped forward onto his chest, and as Tom turned and began to walk back down the hall, Draco followed ghoulishly.  

Ginny had no choice but to follow.  Her feet felt like lead as she dragged herself along.  Even the thought that Dumbledore _might be there to help them was no comfort – wouldn't Dumbledore have saved them already if he could?_

She knew she shouldn't give up faith so simply, but right now it was hard to think of anything except what was about to happen to her.  Her breathing quickening, and her heart thudding, she shuffled a good distance behind Tom, praying that some miracle would happen at any moment. 

Maybe a miracle happened, and maybe it didn't.  All Ginny knew was that one moment she was on the verge of being torn between hysteric sobbing and screaming, and the next moment she had an epiphany. 

_Tom needs me alive, she thought with sudden clarity.  __And better yet . . . he needs Draco alive as well._

So if Ginny were to, say, somehow dash away abruptly and try to run for help, then Tom wouldn't be able to kill her.  Or Draco, in her absence. 

There was always the slight chance that he could use magic to stop her, but if she did it carefully – as he was walking and facing forward – and quietly, she would be able to slip back unnoticed for a few seconds.  It would take him a bit to realize her footsteps had stopped, but by then she might be able to loose him in the maze of corridors in the empty palace.

A million thoughts ran through her mind then, most of them warning her against doing such a foolhardy thing.  _He could find you easily . . . This is his world, no one will help you! . . . He might just go ahead and kill Draco . . . He's too clever; he'll know what you're planning on doing before you even do it . . ._

But she already _was doing it – they approached a corner, and Ginny found her legs stopping on their own accord.  Tom rounded the corner, Draco floating after him, and then she was out of sight._

She spun around and sprinted back down the hall.

It only took about an instant for Tom to notice, and then the air was full of Tom's laughter, and his voice calmly threatening her and speaking to her as if she were right near him.

Still she ran, her heart pounding in her ears hard.  This had to be about her fifth burst of energy – her fifth wind – of the day, because adrenaline was pumping through her as abundantly as blood.  All that mattered then was getting _away from Tom, just getting __away . . . nothing, not even Draco's life (because she was certain he was safe) seemed important to her then._

Her shoes slapped against the stone floor, and she turned sharply down another corridor.  Now she didn't have her back to Tom anymore; he would have to chase after her to see her. 

She needed a way out . . . any way out; she would even opt to jump out of a window.  She had managed before to get down to the first floor with a back stairway she'd found, but now she had no idea where a door was. 

She turned down another corridor then another.  Getting out was definitely at the top of her list, but as long as she kept turning she had to be losing Tom, so it wasn't a dire need.  

Yet.

Finally, after it seemed she had been running with all her might for hours, she slowed to a stop.  Placing a hand on the wall, she rubbed her chest absently to slow her heart, her breathing fast and heavy.  She had escaped Tom's clutches a second time that evening, but she didn't feel as confident as the first time.  Knowing very well that this was his world, she would have a difficult time finding anyone to help her. 

There _was always Dumbledore, but he wasn't a guarantee.  And besides, he was in Wales – how could she get to him before Tom interfered?  It would be very tricky. _

She resumed walking, trying to make as little noise as she could.  Quickly she formed a sketchy plan in her head.

Draco came by horse, so it would most likely still be waiting outside for her, once she found a way out.  She could head back to the castle and find the first redheaded servant she could.  Then, perhaps, she could send the servant in a royal carriage, armed with many dozens of guards, towards . . . the north.  She herself could ride a horse to Wales, and hopefully Tom would follow the carriage.

There were so many faults in that plan, though.  The chances that Tom would be tricked were slim to none.  And she felt wicked about sending an innocent girl and many guards to, probably, meet their deaths. 

_Then there was the possibility Tom would be so enraged if he indeed __was fooled, he might kill Draco._

Yet it was the only thing she could think of at the moment.  It would have to do. 

Right now she just needed to find a way out of the damn castle.

"Majesty?"

Ginny felt her heart lodge itself in her throat, and for a minute it seemed as though her body had stopped functioning.  Slowly, she came to recognize the voice, and spun around. 

There stood Harry, directly behind her, looking apprehensive and slightly confused.

Several emotions tore through Ginny, and it went from relief and gratitude before rapidly approaching suspicious and betrayed.  Had Harry been in it with Tom all along?

She frowned . . . No, wouldn't Tom have said something?  Unless it was why he was so confident when she ran off . . . that she'd run into Harry and he'd bring her back unharmed . . .

The reluctant concern in his eyes looked so sincere she wanted with all her heart to believe he was on her side and knew nothing of what was going on.  But she still had to be cautious.  At the slightest sign of animosity or maliciousness in his expression, she would run away from him.  She had read Maria wrong all along – had mistaken several instances of loathing and jealousy to be something else – and wasn't going to do so this time.

"Are . . ." He swallowed.  "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Ginny said composedly, straightening.  "I've never felt better.  What are you doing here?"

"I – I followed His Majesty here," he admitted, looking as though he had committed a severe crime and was waiting to be flogged.  "I thought something was . . . wrong."

She softened, despite her suspicions.  "Well, I'm glad you're here.  Your presence comforts me, Harry."  It was the truth.

He looked confused and a bit taken aback.  "Why are you here, might I ask?"

"I was taken here," she said resolutely.  "Against my will.  You and I both had our reasons not to like _Doctor Tom, and they were correct.  He is evil."_

Harry nodded as though he had known this all along.  The action caused Ginny to stiffen, her senses on alert again for any sign of falseness. 

"Where is His Majesty?" he asked, quietly, noticing her tense pose.

"Taken as well," she replied with a shrug of one shoulder.  "I've been trying to think of a way to get him back, but I must do something else first."

She felt as if she were talking about some possession, some stolen object, rather than a human being.  Yet her awareness that Harry might be the enemy was making her act coldly.

"Right."  He stood awkwardly then, unsure of what to do. 

_Don't offer to help me, Ginny thought, chewing the inside of her cheek as she stared at him.  __Don't offer to help . . . I'll know for certain you're working with Tom, don't offer anything . . ._

The silence stretched out for a long time.  It was deafening, somehow, but wonderful.  It was clear Harry was not going to say anything about assisting her, and her gaze relaxed.

An ally?  Could she honestly consider Harry such?  It would be such a relief to believe him such, but she _had to be careful. _

"Right," Harry said again.  "Well, then, I shall just be going.  Several tasks left to do at the castle . . ."

"Help me," Ginny told him immediately.

He quirked an eyebrow.  The only emotion evident on his face was that of confusion.  "Help you?" he repeated uncertainly.

"Yes," she said, quickly, gushing to get it out.  "Help me to deal with Tom.  He's got Draco – and I'm by myself.  I need help.  You're the only one I'd come _close to trusting here, Harry."_

There.  She hadn't said she trusted him, but had mentioned that she almost did. 

Ginny knew this could go either one of two ways:  Harry could refuse, saying he couldn't possibly, or he could agree instantly.  She wasn't sure as to which action would prove he worked for Tom, or otherwise.

She watched as his expression hardened over, his lips pressed together in a thin line, his green eyes glaring angrily at her.  Utterly puzzled, she wondered if this was a sign that he despised her and was on Tom's side.  Or maybe he just looked so because he merely thought she had something to do with his mother's death.  Oh, she couldn't figure anything out . . . she had thought she could tell, but she couldn't, and she was wasting time!

"I have no choice but to help you," he said frigidly, "do I?"

"Of course you have a choice," she sputtered.

She hadn't expected him to agree grudgingly.

"I will help you, Your Majesty," he said, his voice tinted with disdain, as though he were humoring her.  He bowed deeply.  "I am your servant, am I not?"

"Oh, stop that," she ordered sharply.  "Stand up and please, whatever you do, never bow to me again."

He straightened, and on his face was now a sneer.  "As you wish, Your Majesty –"

"And don't _call me that!" she shrieked, bringing her fingers to her temples and squeezing her eyes shut.  "I am __not Your Majesty!  I am no one's majesty!  I'm not __royal, I'm not __rich . . .!"_

The cold, indifferent look on his face slowly wore off.  He looked genuinely scared, maybe because he thought she was having some sort of fit.  Quite possibly he was afraid she would hurt him. 

She sucked in breaths through her clenched teeth before yanking her hands to her sides and opening her eyes.  "Are you going to help me?  Out of your own free will?  Because you _are free, Harry, I grant you and your father your freedom."_

"I – I will help you," he said hurriedly.

Of course, he only said so out of terror of being scratched to a pulp.  Ginny knew she must look frightening, could only imagine how red her face was and how her hair was in disarray, but it didn't matter.  She was _leaving the bloody building with or without Harry._

"Come on," she said tonelessly, and proceeded to walk down the hall.

The building truly _was like a maze.  Several corridors fed off others, but none of them led anywhere.  The doors that decorated the hallway were all locked, so she had no access to windows.  Frustration was bubbling within her and the energy she had felt before was draining away.  Her body felt heavy; useless.  She wanted nothing more than to sink into a bed and sleep away her troubles._

The only thing stopping her was that there wasn't a bed in sight.

Ginny was so concentrated on her exhaustion that she didn't realize Harry had stopped following her until she heard a laugh.  She slowly came to a stop, and thought that it was Harry who had laughed, and the only reason she could conclude for him to do so was because he had achieved something he'd wanted.  But as she turned, she found it wasn't him who had chuckled icily – it was Maria.

Ginny must've _really been deep in her thoughts, because somehow Maria had been able to grab Harry and press a knife to his throat, all without her hearing a thing. _

For a long minute, she stood there, stunned.  Harry wasn't struggling, but it had to be because of the fear of having his head chopped off.  Maria was so short that he had to bend backwards just so she could reach his neck.  Both of his hands were on her arm that was strung over his shoulder, but he made no attempt to yank the knife away.  And Maria made no attempt to throw his fingers off.

"You are an imbecile, trying to run from us, Ginny," Maria drawled, her voice laced thickly with venom.  "And it's a pity you brought _him into this."  She nudged Harry, indicating who __him was.  "I shall just have to kill him."_

Ginny wasn't sure how to reply.  She wasn't sure what to think – what to _do.  Harry was moments from death and all she could do was stare. _

_Trapped. _

She was stuck . . . there were only two choices she had.  She could run and leave Harry to die, and have his death constantly eating at her conscience, or she could stay and _watch him die.  Neither was a good thing.  She couldn't just __leave, but she couldn't let Maria come after her once she finished Harry off. _

Not for the first time did Ginny wish she didn't like Harry, yet this time it was for a completely different reason.  This time, she wished she hated him and had the strength to just walk away and let him die. 

But she didn't.  She stayed, her feet rooted to the spot.

The seconds trickled by, Maria glaring at Ginny, Harry's breathing loud and ragged.  Each of them was waiting for someone to make a move, but no one did. 

It was then that Tom decided to arrive.  Only Harry acknowledged his presence by looking at him – Maria didn't dare look away from Ginny, and Ginny held her gaze steadily.

"Maria," Tom said, and his voice soft and caressing, yet threatening and cold, "please release Harry."

"I could kill him –" Maria began at a hiss.

"_No." _

It was one syllable, and it was quiet, but the force of it was amazing.  Maria's cold eyes wavered and she reluctantly removed the blade from Harry's throat, her face suddenly void of color.

Harry stumbled away from Maria, unconsciously moving closer to Ginny, his hand at his neck.

Ginny stared at Tom, trying to see any signs of Draco.  He clearly wasn't anywhere in sight.  Did that mean that Tom had left him alone, unconscious, in some room?

_Maybe he'll wake up, Ginny prayed.  Maybe he could escape if he managed to become conscious once again._

"I think I shall walk behind you two," Tom said, viciousness clearly evident underneath his calm tone.  "Maria, lead us."

Ginny should've known that she couldn't run – should've known that Tom would have made sure that she couldn't escape.  It had been worth a try, but now she'd brought Harry into danger. 

Things couldn't possibly get any worse.

* * *

Maria led them to a monstrous ballroom – or at least, that's what it appeared to be.  The opposite wall was completely made of glass windows, and they were covered with billowy white curtains.  Ginny couldn't see anything outside for the pure darkness.  The vast emptiness made the place cold and frightening, and even though there was a huge chandelier with many candles lit, shadows were visible across the floor. 

Harry went in first, and Ginny stopped as soon as she stepped in.  The door slammed behind her without any human touch.  Her eyes searched the dark room and saw a lump that was Draco, still out cold, in the corner. 

Ginny pressed her back against the closed door, as if hoping she could melt away into the wood. 

"Harry," Tom said, viciousness barely evident underneath his cool tone.  He was standing in the middle of the room, and he pulled out his wand.  "I am delighted that you will be joining us this evening, but I am afraid you will have to watch from over _there."_

As he said the last word, Tom flicked his wand to the wall to his right.  Harry was there in an instant, having moved so fast that Maria _had to have noticed something suspicious. _

She was standing slightly behind him, and did look rather surprised.  However, she didn't say a word.

Harry hit the wall with a loud _smack.  He didn't make any cry, and when he fell to the floor, Ginny assumed he had been knocked out.  Yet he slowly pushed himself up to his knees, his face twisted in such clear pain Ginny just about rushed to his side. _

But she didn't.  Instead, she watched him climb unsteadily to his feet.  Right then she wanted nothing more than for Harry to be gone; to not be there.  She knew he was going to die, and even though he wasn't the same as the Harry she knew so well, the thought still hurt enough to make her insides feel like they were on fire.

"_What –" Harry began, but didn't get very far._

Tom interrupted, "_Petrificus__ Totalus."_

Harry's entire body went rigid, his jaw snapped shut, and he tipped over sideways.  He rolled onto his back stiffly, reminding Ginny of a stone statue.  She stared, though she was immensely relieved Tom hadn't killed him yet.

Maria gaped soundlessly.  She turned to Tom to ask him about it, but the look on his face was so hard and menacing that she thought better of it, and pressed her lips tightly together.

Tom relaxed and said with immense satisfaction, "There.  He is taken care of."  He glanced at Ginny.  "Come over here and make it easier for me, will you?"

Ginny shook her head quickly and violently.  If he was indeed going to take her over, he wasn't going to have an easy time of it.

"Tom," said Maria hurriedly, "I have the knife.  I can kill her for you," she added, fixing her eyes on Ginny with a wicked smile, "so that you can hold her –"

"Silence," Tom snapped at her.  "You will stand aside and watch, do you understand?"

Maria opened her mouth to protest, but must have seen the look in his eyes, and once again thought twice.  She really was a coward, if she was so easy to control.  She must truly be terrified of Tom, Ginny mused.

"Of course," Maria mumbled, and clumsily stepped backwards a few feet.

Ginny was glaring in her direction, and hadn't been paying attention to Tom.  She let out a yelp when suddenly her feet were swept off the floor and she floated rapidly towards one of the walls, Tom's wand following and directing her where he wanted her to go.  He slammed her back into the wall a bit roughly, and she got the breath knocked out of her.  She slunk to the ground, barely landing on her feet, but before she could loose her balance and fall, Tom snapped his fingers and metal chains slunk out from the stone behind her.  They wrapped tightly around her wrists, ankles, waist, and her neck, before slithering back into the wall, pinning her firmly to against it.  If she tried to move much, the chains would dig into her skin painfully.  She remained still, knowing very well there wasn't much chance of escape anyhow, what with Tom staring at her so fiercely.

Maria was looking beyond confused now, and it overpowered her fright.  "How are you –?"

"Don't speak, Maria," Tom hissed, his gaze fixed on Ginny. 

Maria obeyed, but Ginny saw the shimmer of anger that possessed her features and was directed at Tom's back. 

Ginny looked over at Draco, still unconscious in the corner.  Would he wake up?  Could he somehow save her?  The chances were low of course, but it would be a great relief if he would wake. 

_Tom will just knock him out again, she told herself, frowning.  He didn't want Draco to witness this, and would make sure he didn't do so.  It was pointless to wish for help from Draco._

And what about Harry?  She threw a glance at him.  He was still rigidly lying on the floor, showing no indication of moving anytime soon. 

Ginny forced herself to watch Tom.  He still hadn't done anything; he was standing before her, wand in hand, and he had a tiny smile of contented happiness on his face.  She knew it was coming; knew that he was going to invade her soon.  Maybe he was already starting to.  When would she know?

Obviously when she was no longer in her body, she'd know.

Ginny's heart was thumping hard beneath her ribs, and she wondered if she might just pass out from anticipation.  She didn't want to – she wanted to be aware when Tom was killing her. 

Maybe she wouldn't be killed in the sense of her body quit working, but technically, Ginny Weasley would be finished.  Gone.  Forever.  There would be no way to come back.  Only her body would be left, in Tom Riddle's possession.

Now more than ever Ginny wished with every fiber of her being that she hadn't started to write in the diary she'd found in her old schoolbooks her first year.  It had almost killed her six years ago, and now, it probably would succeed in that task.  It was all because of a stupid, idiotic decision she'd made when she was eleven years old. 

And it was going to kill her.

It felt as though liquid ice had replaced her blood in her veins, and it was swiftly making her numb.  Ginny thought maybe it was the beginning of Tom's spell – maybe it meant Tom's spirit was taking hers over. 

Ginny's mind scrambled to form coherent thoughts.  She found herself thinking about her parents, her brothers . . . What would happen to them? Would they try to figure out where she'd gone, and get themselves killed by Tom in the process? 

And what about _her life?  She was only seventeen – it was true, she'd been married, but that was really only __one thing she'd wanted to do as she grew older.  She wanted to meet a nice man and to have children; she wanted to get a nice-paying job; she wanted to prove she was her own __person, not just another Weasley._

Her chances were just going to be snuffed out, exactly like her life.

"Ginny," Tom said suddenly.

She jerked at the sound of his voice.  She had half suspected he had already started to take control of her.

"I don't expect you'll feel a thing," he told her slowly, suddenly grinning at something – perhaps her horrified expression.  "I'm sure it will be quick and painless.  Yet I can only speculate.  I've never done this before."

Ginny's mouth went dry, and she couldn't answer. 

"Just one last thing," Tom added, tapping his wand into his other palm.  "Thank you.  You worked my plan just as I'd hoped.  So I thank you."

She then wished she had some saliva, because it seemed like such a perfect opportunity to spit on him.

Tom raised his wand, his eyes alight with a mad fire, and shouted two words: "_Abrogo__ Anima!"_

Ginny had no idea what it meant, but it had to have been powerful.  Instantly, a howling wind swept through the room.  It ruffled the curtains and blew most of the candles in the chandelier out – the entire room plunged into near darkness.  The only sound was the wind, whistling by Ginny's ears, causing her hair to float up around her head . . . Tom's own hair was in disarray, and it made his resemblance to Harry uncanny. 

The look on his face was that of supreme concentration, his wand pointed in the general direction of Ginny's chest, but behind him, Maria's mouth was moving.  Ginny couldn't hear what she was saying; it might've been her fright clogging her ears, or maybe the roaring of the wind . . . Maria was obviously shouting something at Tom, wide-eyed and looking frustrated.

Tom's eyes flickered from Ginny, and his calm expression was overtaken by absolute rage.  He lowered his wand and turned slowly to face Maria. 

Ginny then realized that maybe she might be able to escape.  Since he was no longer watching her, maybe she could somehow slip her wrists out of the chains, and maybe yank the one out from around her throat with her free hand. 

The wind continued to tear at Ginny's hair and whip her smock around her calves as she looked down and tried to wiggle her hands from the chains.  It hurt, and she knew she had little chance of getting free, but she found she didn't care.  She _wasn't going to sit there and wait for help.  She'd done that all her life . . . there had always been __someone there to help her, and now that there wasn't, she was going to do it herself._

She hoped.

Deciding to use another tactic, she balled her hands into fists, and she tugged them away from the wall, hoping to pull the chains out.  No luck.  The metal dug into her skin relentlessly, causing a trickle of blood in both hands to drip down her closed fingers.  She winced, gritted her teeth together, and pulled again.

Her eyes began to water, and she glanced back up at Tom to see what he was doing.  He still had his back to her, and Maria was watching him with wide, furious eyes, and her lips were still moving – she was still yelling at him, probably demanding to know what he was doing. 

Ginny yanked on her chains again, and let out a cry of pain that didn't reach her ears over the loud wind.  She relaxed her hands, and dropped her head back against the wall; it was no use.  She couldn't pull herself out . . . she wasn't strong enough.  Already her fingers were slippery with her own blood.

She tried to blink back tears and hurriedly looked down at her feet.  Maybe . . . Her legs were definitely stronger – maybe she could somehow pull them loose. 

_Then what? she asked herself._

Well, she'd just take it one step at a time.

However, just as she began to jerk her right foot forward, flashes of green light made her look up abruptly.  She saw, through the strands of hair dancing in front of her eyes, Maria falling to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Tom had killed her.

Ginny's heart flopped.  It was true, Maria had been there to kill her, but somehow, her presence had been accepted. That was only with the thought that she perhaps might try and stop Tom from doing magic – it was a stupid last hope, Ginny was aware, but it had been a hope nonetheless.

And now Maria was dead.  There was no one conscious, moving, or alive in the room except for Ginny and Tom.  It terrified her.

Tom turned back to Ginny, and his darkened eyes met hers.  She froze, and realized at that moment – it was over.  She had lost, and Tom had won . . . there was no more she could do.

Her muscles slumped, and the only thing that kept her standing was the vague knowledge that if she didn't support herself, the chain around her neck would choke her.  Suddenly that didn't seem like such a bad idea; if she was dead, Tom couldn't use her body.

But there was no time to choke to death.  Tom raised his wand once more, his eyes never leaving hers, and he smiled.  He knew, too, that he was the victor.  In only seconds, everything would be . . .

Was the wind still howling?  And was that _her screaming?  She blinked, loosing focus of Tom.  His face swam in front of her, but she could still see his smile . . . that satisfied, victorious, pleased smile, the one that made the blue of his eyes turn to black, and the handsome features of his face turn cold and hard . . ._

Now she wasn't hearing much of anything at all.  She couldn't feel the wind anymore, couldn't feel the slick blood on her hands or the pinch of the chains . . . she couldn't see properly, couldn't hear properly . . . was her soul being wrenched from her body?  Was she dead yet?

And then it was over; she knew it was over, that she was gone . . . and her mind shut down completely.

* * *

The bed was too hard.

That was the first thing that floated into Ginny Weasley's mind as she surfaced from sleep.  She was used to softness –

_She stretched luxuriously, a small smile on her lips.  Her dream had been a pleasant one . . . she'd been in the arms of some man with silvery-blonde hair, and it had been very enjoyable . . ._

– like sleeping on air, but somehow this was . . . familiar.

She woke up slowly, lazily . . . it felt as if she'd just had the best night's sleep of her life, despite the lumpiness of the bed.  She didn't have anything to worry about, as there was nothing on her mind except how wonderful it would be just to fall right back asleep.

She yawned loudly and widely, stretched her legs, and forced her eyes to open all the way.  Above her was red velvet canopy – how wonderfully familiar.  There was something about this bed she had missed . . .

Then, with a jolt of her body and just about the loudest gasp she'd ever done in her life, Ginny sprang into a sitting position.

_Hogwarts._

Suddenly she was wide-awake, and she scrambled violently to yank the covers off her legs.  After about a second of struggling and her getting tangled in the bedclothes, she gave up and wrenched the bed curtains open.  The glorious view of the seventh-year Gryffindor girl's dormitory met her eyes, and she gaped at it like she'd never seen anything like it before in her life.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, shit."

She wasn't even sure what she'd sworn about, but the word had seemed very appropriate.  She hurried to get out of bed only to forget she was tangled in sheets and to crash to the floor.

And there she lay, half of her on her back, the bedclothes holding her legs up the side of the bed, stunned.  She looked up at the ceiling, hardly daring to believe what was going on, and was suddenly struck with the urge to laugh.

So she did.  

She laughed like a maniac; surely, if anyone had been around, they would've thought her mad.  Her sides hurt, and her eyes watered . . . but it felt so good just to let go and _grin that she didn't mind the least bit. _

She was safe!  She was at Hogwarts, she was in her own body . . . Tom wasn't anywhere around – he was _dead – and she wasn't! _

But . . . what day was it?  Had everyone been missing her?

Ginny, sucking in a breath to keep from laughing more, quickly pulled herself free of her sheets and got to her knees.  On top of her bed table was the most glorious thing she'd ever seen – _her wand. _

She snatched it and she couldn't help it; she kissed it.  The smile just wouldn't leave her face.  Even if Tom _was around – which he probably wasn't, because she was back at Hogwarts! – then she had her wand with her, and she stood a better chance._

Ginny looked at her wrists –

_The chains dug into her skin, sharp as a blade, causing rivets of blood to travel down her fingers.  She found herself thinking that it was good, the blood would help her slide her wrists out of their manacles . . . but it hurt far too much for her to attempt. _

 – to find them smooth and unscarred.  If indeed she had just been recently chained to a wall, there was no evidence of it.  Either it hadn't happened, or someone had healed her, and she would bet everything she owned that it was the former.

But . . . what was the date?  She hurried around to the end of her bed where her trunk was, and she opened it.  She found what she was looking for instantly.  It was her calendar, the one she had all her major tests and homework assignment due dates in.  It was rather small, novel-sized; she opened it and flipped through it to December. 

On the box for Saturday, the 5th of December, were the written words, "_This is today" and then it proceeded to list all the work she needed to start on in order to finish in time.  Ginny's mouth dropped open and she lowered her calendar._

December . . . the 5th . . . She hadn't been missing a day –

_She needed to know the date.  Something was very wrong, and the date had to have something to do with it._

_"What is the date, Maria?" she asked suddenly._

_"The fifth of December, m'dear."_

 – not a second.  No one would've noticed her gone.

Or maybe . . . she hadn't even _left._

Her smile widened.  Of course!  She _hadn't gone back to 1607 – it must've been a dream!  An awful, long, elaborate, life-like dream, but a dream nonetheless!  If it had __really happened, then Tom wouldn't have let her return to her own time, unscarred . . . _

But then, there was the possibility it was Dumbledore who had brought her back.  It seemed impossible . . . how could anyone have brought her out of that world?

Yet what if it really was a dream?  Should she approach Dumbledore and say, "Hi, Professor, can you tell me if you saved me from being possessed by Tom Riddle in the Seventeenth Century?"

If he hadn't, she would look like a total nutcase.

Though if he _had, then she should probably just wait for him to come to her first.  He wouldn't keep quiet about it if indeed it had happened, she knew that much._

So either way, she shouldn't worry, should she?

Ginny replaced her calendar and stood up, gripping her wand to her as though terrified someone would take it away, and headed out of the dormitory.  She wondered why it was empty – how late was it in the morning?

Before she stepped out, she glanced at the clock on the wall.  It read, "_You overslept, you lazy girl – it's __noon__!" _

Noon?  Why hadn't anyone woken her up?  It was nearly lunchtime.

Well aware that she was still in her pajamas, she went down to the common room.  The sight that greeted her nearly put her into tears – she really _was back at Hogwarts.  Her fellow Gryffindors sat around, lounging about in the freedom of their Saturday afternoon.  A few glanced curiously at her for descending down without being dressed at such a late hour, or even without a bathrobe, but it didn't matter. _

She just needed the reassurance that there were people around, that this wasn't some sort of trick.  Satisfied, she stood there grinning like an idiot for a little while, then turned and headed back up to her dormitory.  She needed to get dressed and go down for something to eat . . . 

As Ginny walked up the dormitory steps, she suddenly remembered Draco.  His face flashed in her mind, and she stopped halfway up the stairs. 

If it hadn't been a dream, then was Draco safe at his house? Had he, too, been brought back? Or was he still in that icy, dreary ballroom back in 1607?

Somehow, Ginny doubted Dumbledore would've left him there if he had been the one to bring them back. 

If that was the case – if Draco was indeed back at home – then did he remember any of it? Was he awake at this very moment, thinking of her, too?

_"He's fallen in love with you, can't you see?" Tom had said. _

Was that true? Tom wouldn't lie, but what did he know? Was Draco Malfoy really capable of loving anyone, much less _her, the youngest in a family he despised? _

Ginny wasn't sure about him, but she did know that _she had fallen head-over-heels, hopelessly devotedly, starry-eyed and wonderfully in love with him. She probably had been ever since he'd jumped into her path when she was running from the Gypsies in the woods – _

_They were screaming at her . . . she'd harmed their leader, and they weren't happy. She needed to get away, she needed to ignore the sharp pain in her side and her fatigue. She needed to move faster!___

_Into the woods . . . she hadn't gotten very far when someone jumped out and blocked her path. For a fleeting second she thought it was another gypsy, and then she noticed the light hair and the clean face._

_It was Draco._

 – she'd loved him ever since he'd risked his life just to try and safe hers against terrible odds. 

She groaned softly, and continued to walk back up to her dormitory. If Dumbledore had saved them, if it all really had happened, and if the crazy possibility that Draco could even _like her was true, then how could they start a relationship in __this world? Ginny had six full-grown brothers, plus a gentle-natured father who would turn nasty at most mentions of the Malfoy family, that would tear Draco apart and then lock Ginny away in her room for life if they even __suspected she had any feelings for him that were a snitch kinder than hatred. _

Besides, she'd spent most of her time in 1607 worrying about having to share her life with Draco when they were married – and that was when she was forced to be with him. Why would she be crazy enough to voluntarily try and be with him now? 

She might love him, but they weren't made for each other. Every time they got within hearing distance of each other they would fight and insult one another. It was emotional suicide to have a relationship with him.

Ginny sucked in breath, pausing outside her dormitory door. She would just have to forget about him, wouldn't she? They didn't live anywhere near each other; they didn't go to the same places because their social status was the complete opposite – _it will be easy to avoid him, Ginny thought confidently._

Yet inside she felt like something had died within her.

She then found herself wondering about seventeenth-century Harry. Even if she was no longer in the world with him, she hoped he was all right. The chances were, though, he didn't even _exist._

Or at least, she hoped he didn't exist.

She went into the dormitory, deciding she would take a shower first, as a quick run of her fingers through her greasy hair proved she was filthy. Her sheets were still tangled and hanging off the bed, and her curtains were still open . . . the house-elves would come and straighten her bed eventually, so she didn't need to bother with it.

She rummaged through her trunk to find a new bottle of shampoo she'd picked up at Hogsmeade recently, and then stood up to close her bed curtains, so that no one would have to stare at her messy bed.

It was then she saw it.

She dropped her shampoo and nearly fell to the floor after it.

On her bed, leaning right side up against her headboard was a large painted photograph in a golden wood frame. It was a Muggle picture; perfectly still –

_Her hair was matted down to her neck, her legs ached, and she desperately had to use the toilet. For the millionth time she wondered when it would be over; hadn't they been standing there long enough? _

– and it was the wedding portrait of her and Draco.

"Oh . . . my . . ." Ginny sputtered, lost for words.

The painting was so lifelike . . . it was almost scary. There was the hint of that familiar sneer around Draco's lips, and the rise of his eyebrows expressed annoyance. She half-expected him to start moving. 

His hands were loosely holding hers . . .

_Sweat . . . her hands were sweaty within his, but it somehow felt comfortable. Soothing._

. . . and she could see their wedding bands. She stared at it, remembering the feel of his skin, and the yearning to touch him again was so strong she just about couldn't stand it. 

Sighing deeply, Ginny closed the curtains so no one would see the portrait, then hurried to take her shower. Ten minutes later, she'd dressed in record time and was nearly running out of the common room and out into the hallways to find Dumbledore.

* * *

_Notes: **Abrogo means, in Latin: to repeal, annul, remove, take away.**_

**_Anima means: life, soul._**

A/N: Once and for all, I'm terribly sorry about this chapter having no D/G action. But there will be some in the next one, I promise. 

Thanks to the reviewers!:

**dragongirlG (Alexandria was just a passing character, I believe. And I hoped I answered, well, most of your questions!), ****myself, Cate Evergreen (Draco a babe? Of course! What else would he be? ;)), ****audig (I'm just psychic, darling, I knew exactly when you would be back), ****Cithara (Don't worry, I'm loosing my mind too! I'm pretty sure I replied to it, but then . . . ah, I'll go check my inbox later!), ****Midnight (thanks!), ****angel15 (sorry it took you so long to understand! I'm dying of boredom as well, so don't feel like you're the only one. *yawn*), ****nebbie (haha, hoped I posted soon enough), ****God of Fire (Sacrificed, hmm? Wouldn't that hurt?), ****Faith Akiyama (heh, sorry I didn't get it out as quickly as you would have liked), ****insomniacgal, ****Escritora (next chapter we'll figure out what's up with Dumbledore), ****silverarrows (you hate me? Well, I'm sorry to hear that *sniffles*), ****sAnDiE, ****ShortNsweet, ****Dorthey**** Star (D/Hr, huh? That sort of thing really isn't my bag, baby. But yeah, I'm definitely glad ff.net's up. It's funny how we all have no life when the stupid site goes down. Haha. And I actually haven't had writer's block in a very long time. This is the first story I've written that I actually knows what's going to happen), ****LadyKassandra****, Michi (thank you!), ****Sarah (yes, she does, ha), ****Fishhead (sorry to shock you! I'm glad you enjoy the story so much), ****~*Crystal Lily*~, ****stormyfire****, Satans Little Princess, Sierra*Sitruc, bekkle (print it out? Geeze, how many pages is that? *is stunned*), ****Manissetan (you don't have to tie me to the computer – I'm already on all the time), ****Korinna**** Myorin, COSMOZ (three hours? I couldn't sit still for that long! I'm glad you like it so much, it really makes me happy that you enjoy it!), ****VioletJersey (nope, I don't believe there's any attachment to Maria and Ginny. Ha, and I'm sorry, but I killed her off!), ****Caitriona**** Briana (Draco's just dandy, actually. Thank you!), ****Nathalie (wonderful cliffhanger? Finally somebody who appreciates my cliffhangers!), ****shanm (I hope you aren't dead! I would feel awful), ****anonymous217 (you bet!), ****ADaRen (Hope I brightened this week for you!), ****Caroline (so I've been told…), ****Chantico (I admit, this wasn't really all that clever of an escape, but really, if you think about it, it's the only thing that would work. Tom wouldn't be stupid enough to let them escape while he's in the same room. And thank you!), ****lightning bug (ha, I've never read book before. Yes, splinters are the devil!), ****Redbug, ****Mary (why thank you), ****Gengi (glad you do!), ****sOmEoNeSpEcIaL (hope I posted soon enough!), ****Temptress (it's not too far-fetched! It's actually very close to the truth ;)), ****wellduh (yes, you do get pretty desperate, I suppose), ****Gilly (thank you very much! Your review really makes me smile), ****Desert Rose (ha, I think we won that soccer tournament, actually), ****A Devilish Angel, ****Fiona Rayne (I'm glad you did), ****KatParker (thank you!), ****Brooke (haha, I'm very honored that you would call your mother you were so happy! Thank you much!), ****nebula (clichéd? How do you mean? I'm not offended or anything – I definitely respect your opinion – but I'm just not sure I'm understanding you. And I'm sorry about the lack of snogs!), ****cuty****-cat (hope the ending of the chapter was cheerful enough!), ****Aly****, anakingirl82 (it's almost finished), ****Jessica (thanks!), ****Jacquelin**** Benito, Stacy (There may be only one more chapter left…I believe…), ****manda****, Angel Malfoy (perhaps!), ****Michelle Wood (hope you had fun at camp!), ****ffnet-joel (yeah, they are meant to be cruel…and to keep you coming back for more!), ****Swim Freak (your wish is my command!).**

And, as always, thanks to Tia for beta'ing!

Hope I didn't miss anyone, and if I did, I will thank you next time!

In case any of you are wondering, yes, there _will be a next time. But I think chapter 18 may be the last chapter. __Maybe. There could be another one after that, but I'm not sure._

If you'd like an email to be updated on the next chapter, email me at mochabutterfly22@yahoo.com. Or join the yahoo group I share with Emma: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/firespriteandmochabutterfly/ 

And, if you'd like to read Catherine Danielson's take on this chapter, her own lovely version that I think is absolutely wonderful, then go here: http://www.fictionalley.org/fictionalleypark/forums/showthread.php?s=67999089d95669c945646080178f25e8&threadid=13337 

Sooo, in conclusion, the next chapter includes lots of snogs, heated arguments, and Dumbledore explaining some more things.


	18. Jack, Floo Powder, and Lucius Malfoy

**_Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._**

**_A/N: I'm very well aware of how stupid the title of the chapter is, but I couldn't think of anything else. Sorry for such an awful name._**

This isn't the last chapter – well, it's the last full chapter, anyway. The next one won't be as long as this, not nearly.

Special thanks to Tía for beta'ing and Elaine for checking it over!

**Chapter Eighteen**

****

**_Jack, Floo Powder, and Lucius Malfoy_**

Something soft and moist rubbed against Draco's cheek. At first he thought it was a dream. It took him a moment to realize whatever it was clearly was trying to wake him up, and he came to from a deep sleep. 

Now he smelled something unpleasant. 

He blinked his lids open heavily, but still the soft and moist thing nuzzled his cheek harder, nudging him. He glanced over at it and for one crazy instant thought it was a horse, with its mouth pressed against his face and its stale breath filling his nostrils, and he was back in his room in Malfoy Manor.

Then the crazy instant turned into an insane reality. Draco yelped and suddenly wide-awake rolled off the other side of his bed. He hurriedly got to his feet and whipped around to stare at the horse that was standing in his room, looking incredibly out of place and filling the space with a strong horse-smell.

"What the _fuck?_"Draco demanded, wiping his cheek dry.

It took him about a full minute to register that it was Jack. 

Draco glanced around quickly and found that he definitely was back home, not in a castle, but in his modern bedroom that he'd lived in since he was born. The only thing that was different was that there was a horse standing right beside the bed, swishing his tail, flicking his ears, and snorting every now and then. 

Draco looked down at himself to find he wasn't wearing tight trousers and a doublet any longer – he was in a pair of his own dark trousers and a dark shirt that he had fallen asleep in the night before he'd woken up in 1607.

If only Jack hadn't been there; then Draco might've been able to think the entire thing hadn't happened. But there the damned horse was, real as life itself, and he clearly wasn't going away. 

Draco swore and rubbed his cheek again. 

"Stay here," he said sternly to Jack, and left his room. 

He headed towards the dining room, where he was guessing his mother would be eating breakfast. He needed to know what day it was.

What had _happened_? The question kept circling around in his mind. The last thing he remembered was standing in the hall with Ginny before Tom had stunned him. And then . . . he'd woken up at home.

Either Tom had suddenly decided to be kind and let them return to their time, or . . . well, Draco couldn't come up with another theory. None of it made sense. 

Still, why had Tom stunned him? Had he stunned Ginny, too? Draco was still completely lost as to why he'd brought them there. He wasn't completely sure why stunning him would accomplish anything, if Tom had needed them for some reason, but anything was possible. Maybe Tom had been planning on killing him later.

Yet if that was the case, then why was Draco home?

_Does it really matter? _a voice asked. 

Well, the point _was _that he washome. And there was no sign of Tom anywhere. In fact, Draco was pretty sure he didn't exist. So why did he have to worry about it? Why try and question something he'd wanted to happen for weeks? 

When Draco entered the dinning room, he found his mother with an empty plate in front of her, and reading a novel. She didn't look up when he entered, but she raised her eyebrow and said, "Good afternoon, Draco."

"What day is it?" Draco asked, taking a seat beside her. 

"It's nearly one o'clock," Narcissa replied absently.

"No, what _day_ is it?" he repeated a bit harshly.

Finally, his mother looked up, lowering her book. "What day? I believe it's the fifth."

"Of December?" 

"No, Draco, of June," Narcissa commented dryly. She seemed to notice his expression and sobered, peering closely at his face, her ice blue eyes squinted. "Are you all right?"

"I'm great," said Draco through clenched teeth. "It's the fifth of December, you say?"

"Yes, Draco," she sighed, sounding slightly on the exasperated side.

"So I haven't been missing," he stated bluntly.

"Not that I've been aware," Narcissa said smoothly, returning to her book. 

"There's a horse in my bedroom," Draco added, hoping to snare her attention again.

He only received that raised eyebrow; a trait he'd inherited. "Draco, please. I'm trying to read."

With a deep sigh, he stood up and left the room. So now things were even more confusing. How could the past three weeks have happened if he hadn't been missing even twelve hours? 

But it obviously _had_ happened. Why else would Jack be in his room? 

_Maybe it's not Jack_, Draco thought. He might've been so panicked to have a horse in his room that he might not have noticed what it looked like. It was possible that it was just there as a joke. 

Only he didn't know anyone who would find putting a horse in his room at all amusing. 

Draco was confused, and he didn't like the feeling. He had always felt the need to know everything, to understand what everything meant. But lately it seemed like nothing was making sense, and he couldn't understand anything. Why wouldn't someone explain something to him? 

Back in his room, the horse hadn't moved at all. It still stood beside his bed. 

Draco closed his door and approached the creature. Well, it certainly looked like Jack. 

It even had that little spot of white on top of its ear, whereas the rest of him was black. Hell – even the _saddle_ looked familiar. 

"How'd you get here?" Draco asked, grabbing the reins and stroking Jack's nose. 

Jack's white-spotted ear twitched. 

Draco wasn't sure what he was going to do with Jack. He didn't have a barn, and he didn't know of one nearby. He definitely couldn't leave the horse in his bedroom. Who knew when Jack was going to have to relieve himself? 

Draco sat down on his bed and tried to think. He needed to sort out his thoughts, even though it was rather hard, because he wasn't sure what to think. He was still hopelessly lost and puzzled by everything. 

First things first: Ginny. She'd been kidnapped by Tom. He might've explained things to her. Perhaps she knew what was going on.

Yeah, well, even if she did, Draco wasn't at all sure if he should send her an owl. She was probably back at Hogwarts, probably didn't want to ever hear from him again. 

That was fine with him. He didn't want to hear from her, either.

Or . . . maybe he did. He just wanted to know what the hell was happening – why they'd been in the year 1607, why they'd come back. If she didn't know, fine; then she just wouldn't reply. But if she did, he'd have her tell him.

He went over to his desk and pulled out a fresh parchment. It took him about five minutes of staring at it before he decided how to address her. _Dear Ginny _seemed too personal, and _Weasley_ seemed too . . . childish. He finally just put _Ginny_ and proceeded to write the letter.

When he was done, he rolled it up, but hesitated before heading downstairs to send his owl with it. What if Ginny had no idea what he was talking about? What if she didn't remember a thing? 

That wouldn't be right, though. Whoever brought them back wouldn't just leave _him_ with the memory of it. Would they?

He felt humiliated even at the thought of Ginny receiving the letter and having not an inkling of what it meant. Maybe it would be better just to go to Hogwarts, and see her reaction at the sight of him . . .

Draco crumpled the parchment and threw it away. 

_Maybe it would be better if I just forgot about it_, he told himself bitterly.

Jack snorted and stomped at the floor, almost as if he were arguing. 

"Oh, like you know anything," Draco snapped, running his hand over his face. 

He then sighed for what seemed like the millionth time, realizing the idiot horse was right – there was no force possible that could make him forget about what had happened to him. There was even less that could make him forget about how he felt when he was around Ginny Weasley.

* * *

Luckily, Ginny didn't have to search for Dumbledore's office; lunch had started, and he was in the Great Hall eating. As soon as he saw her approaching the teachers' table he politely excused himself from his conversation with Professor Flitwick, and nodded at her so she would follow him out of the hall where they could talk privately.

Ginny knew at that moment for sure that Dumbledore knew what had happened, and most likely had saved them.

She'd never loved the old man more.

"Let's talk in my office, shall we, Ginny?" Dumbledore asked kindly, his eyes twinkling knowingly. 

She agreed, because she seriously didn't want anyone overhearing what they might say. She followed him quietly up to the tower where his office was, and politely pretended not to hear the password ("_cherry chocolate bars_") that made the gargoyle spring aside. Ginny had never been to Dumbledore's office before; she quietly took in the moving spiral staircase and the large circular office without comment. Smiling kindly at her, he asked her to take a seat in front of his desk, and sat down himself.

There was a long stretch of silence in which Ginny, feeling awkward, looked around and pretended to be interested in the portraits of the sleeping former Headmasters and Headmistresses. At last Dumbledore spoke.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Weasley?"

She met his eyes and found a shadow of a smile on his face. "Um, yes," she answered. 

"What's that portrait of me and Draco – Draco Malfoy . . . what's that doing on my bed?"

Dumbledore pressed his fingertips together and appeared to be surprised. "Portrait?"

For one fleeting second, one terrifying moment, Ginny thought that maybe 

Dumbledore had no clue as to what she was about to tell him. 

"I thought you might enjoy a souvenir," he went on before she could jump up and run from the room in embarrassment. He grinned mysteriously at her. 

Ginny instantly relaxed in the chair, finding that she had been gripping the armrests. 

"So . . . you brought me back? Us back?"

Dumbledore, now looking serious, nodded once. "Yes," he replied simply.

Ginny sat, about a million questions flashed in her mind. _How_? was the one she wanted to ask the most, but instead decided to have him start from the beginning. "You were there? The entire time?"

"I was," he told her with a slight nod. 

"Tom didn't know of your presence?"

"No he did not," Dumbledore said, and that ghost of a smile flickered over his face again.

Ginny found herself smiling back. "I could've gone to you all along and I didn't. I thought that if Tom had made the world then he would've known you there. Why didn't he?"

"He didn't expect that I was able to put myself there," he said. "He was so sure of his own powers he forgot to consider there might be others that weren't too far behind him." Dumbledore then leaned forward, face expressionless, eyes smiling. "He wasn't aware that I knew he was creating the world."

"You were?" Ginny interrupted. "Then why didn't you stop him from bringing Draco and me there?"

She immediately regretted sounding so ungrateful – if it hadn't been for Dumbledore, 

Lord Voldemort would be in her body that very moment.

"I couldn't do that," Dumbledore answered gravely. "I didn't know how to, to be fully honest with you. All I could do was follow you into the world."

"But . . ." Ginny paused, a bit frustrated. "If you were there the whole time, then why didn't you let us know? I didn't think you were to be trusted."

"I couldn't. I must admit to you, Ginny, that Voldemort was more powerful than I was, before Harry killed him. I knew he was making the world, I knew he was going to bring someone from Hogwarts in to it, but I didn't know how to stop him. Nothing like this had ever happened before. All I could do was go into the world, and I barely just managed to do that."

The thought that Voldemort had been more powerful that Dumbledore chilled Ginny, and she was thoroughly thankful he wasn't around anymore. She suppressed a shudder and waited for Dumbledore to continue.

When he just stared at her with those gentle sparkling eyes, she went on and asked, 

"So you basically couldn't let us know you were there to help us?"

"I tried," he admitted. "I told Draco to return with you. I didn't know it was you at the time, of course. I didn't have an idea of what was going on in the world. I only knew about Draco being a prince, and I managed to copy Voldemort in his magical feats – I planted the knowledge of me being the family doctor into the young princess Elle's head. I could only hope that she would pass the information on.

"But there was one thing I couldn't do, and that was enter England," Dumbledore said. 

She waited a bit impatiently as he stopped and wiped his spectacles with the left sleeve of his robes. 

"Why's that?" she couldn't help but ask as he replaced his glasses back on his face.

"Tom would be aware of me," he said, as though it were that simple. "Or, at least, I had a hunch he would. To be on the safe side, I kept in Wales. I had hoped Draco would've brought you, but you two never came."

Ginny, not for the first time, cursed herself for not visiting him when she had the chance. 

"So . . . so _how_ did you bring us back here?" she demanded eagerly. The one question she wanted answered most.

"Before I entered the world, I knew of Tom's plans, for the most part," Dumbledore began, glancing up at the ceiling as he spoke. "I didn't know who he was using, but I knew he was going to come back in another's body. I had my spies – who found out all the information for me in the first place – try their hardest to find any evidence of what sort of spell he was going to use. They got their hands on a parchment Tom had written various words on and copied it, and brought the copy back to me.

"A bit foolish of Voldemort to leave such things around, but I reckon he was so confident with himself he didn't think anyone was suspecting what he was up to."

Dumbledore then went quiet, still staring a bit mistily up at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts.

"Um, sir?" Ginny asked carefully.

"Hmm?" he asked pleasantly, looking down at her once more. "Oh, yes. Well, on the parchment he had basically written a complex spell  one uses to take over another's body, making a few adjustments he would try to fit his own purpose. It was really quite ingenious – even I am still stunned by the brilliance of him. However, it was very stupid of him to actually have left such evidence lying around. So I knew what spell he was going to perform, and I set to work on my own little spell."

"What spell is that?" she asked before he even had a chance to explain.

"I suppose it's not so little," Dumbledore replied breezily. "I had to bring it into Tom's creation world with me in order to finish it. Otherwise, I would've been trying to get to you. I was too busy working on finding a way to bring you both back to our regular time, and destroy the world Tom had made.

"I worked for about four weeks on it, two weeks here, and two more weeks in Tom's world. I rarely slept, and I knew there was a strong risk that Tom might be aware of all the magic that took place in his world. Fortunately, he hadn't been expecting any magic but his, so he was oblivious. Finally, I was able to cast a spell that I could only pray might work."

Ginny bit her lip to keep from repeating her question and waited for him to elaborate.

He smiled broadly at her obvious anxiety. "The best way to describe the spell would be in one word: _trigger_. As soon as Tom cast his spell, the major one that would suck your soul from your body, the spell I cast would trigger a sort of destruction. It would destroy his world; it would cease to exist, as well as the people who lived in it and the not-quite-real spirit that was Tom. However, it would send you, Draco, and of course, yours truly, back to the day you'd left in 1998 – which happened to be last night. And I am happy to report that it worked."

Ginny stared at him with an expression of disbelief, shock, happiness, and awe. 

"How'd you _make_ such a spell?" she said quietly.

Dumbledore shrugged. "My _own_ brilliance continues to amaze me, Miss Weasley."

Ginny gave a snort of laughter, but her smile faded shortly afterward. "Thank you, sir," she told him softly. "I – well – we . . . just, thank you."

"You are quite welcome, Ginny," he answered brightly. "Any more questions?"

"Er, yes," she said. "Those murdered families. Why did Tom bother to go through such trouble?"

Dumbledore's eyes darkened at the mention of the murders. "I have only a couple of theories, though none of them I can say are true for certain. One is that he was trying to alert you of his presence, trying to make you aware that he was there and he was powerful enough to harm. The other is that he just grew bored, and needed someone to kill. Perhaps he did this because of both of these reasons.

"However, Ginny," he added, "none of those people truly exist. Even though it might seem terrible, and the thought of it is, it wasn't real, so in reality no one was harmed."

That was definitely a relief. Still, Ginny could picture those poor children as if she had just seen it . . . those poor children, their lives snuffed out all because Tom was _bored _. . .

"Anything else?" Dumbledore probed gently.

Ginny thought a moment. "James and Lily. Why were they there? Did Tom create them specifically as well?"

"I would have to say yes," he said. "That's the only reasonable explanation, wouldn't you think?"

Ginny didn't think _any_ of the explanations she had been told were reasonable, but she understood. Taking a deep breath, she asked what had been on her mind for the past ten minutes. "What about Draco?"

"What about him? He's safe at home, and I believe his new friend is, as well." Dumbledore's eyes now seemed to twinkle mischievously. 

"Friend, Sir?" Ginny repeated, confused. She didn't think Draco had friends even in 1998, much less in 1607. 

Dumbledore grinned at her. "I suppose you can call it Mister Malfoy's own souvenir."

Ginny realized she didn't want to know what he had gotten, but then another question popped in her mind. "If you didn't know much about the world, then how did you know about the portrait? And about whatever Draco's 'souvenir' is?"

"Gossip exists in just about every year and society, Ginny," Dumbledore answered mysteriously. "Welsh women in the seventeenth century seemed particularly interested in what sort of horse Prince Draco rode, and what sort of artist painted the new King and Queen's wedding picture."

"_Horse_?" Ginny repeated, then threw her head back and laughed. "Horse! You gave Draco a horse?"

Dumbledore only smiled, but the look on his face clearly hinted that he had indeed done so. 

Ginny felt giddy, and wanted to leap across the desk and hug the daylights out of her headmaster at being so genius and so clever, but then remembered that he was rather old and didn't want to hurt him – or scare him with her sudden show of affection. 

Instead, she flashed him her widest smile and stood up. 

"Thanks, Professor, I think I understand everything now," she said. 

"Good. Now why don't you go to the Great Hall? I believe lunch is still in process."

She grinned and nodded, and then left the office.

* * *

Later that night, Ginny lay in bed, the silly smile still plastered to her face. All in all, the day had been satisfying. She'd sent an owl to each member of her family, just saying hi and explaining how much she missed them. She knew they'd be a bit confused by it, but she didn't care. The fact that they were just an owl away made her feel safe, cosy and extremely content.

She hadn't done much else for the remainder of her Saturday except eat and lounge around wearing her delightfully comfortable clothes. It was nice to be able to wear what she wanted. 

But now, since there wasn't anyone to babble to about nothing in particular like she'd been doing all day, she found her thoughts were wandering. And they came to focus on one thing – Draco.

He was at home, and he obviously knew what had happened to them was real. He had a live horse to prove it. Just imagining the look on his face when he realized there was a horse in his house made her laugh, and she had to smother her face in her pillow. 

But then – why hadn't he tried to contact her? He had to be curious as to what had happened and why it had. From what she'd heard of him, he wasn't very fond of Dumbledore. So basically that meant if he didn't want to speak with the Headmaster, then Draco – if anything – should try and speak to her. Or at least send her an owl. She knew if she were in his place, she'd be just about dying to know what was going on. She'd gladly swallow her pride and forget about the grudge she held against his family if it meant knowing some of the answers.

Then again, this _was _Draco she was talking about. He'd rather swallow live snakes than his own pride.

Ginny rolled over, parting her curtains slightly and glancing over at the window. The moon was bright – its bluish light spilled over onto the sill. Hearing all the other seventh years were still sleeping by their deep breaths and snores, she got out of bed and went to the windowsill. Leaning her forehead against the cold glass, she saw that the sky was completely covered with thick clouds – all except for the moon. It peeked through, gleaming and full, washing the grounds in soft brightness, the light glittering off the frost on the grass, sparkling in the cold water of the lake. 

Suddenly, she felt sad, like there was something heavy in her chest. Like some part of her was gone forever, and that things might never be as they used to be. She sighed deeply, and closed her eyes. After a moment, she opened them, and found that the clouds had overtaken the moon – it was now hidden, and the world was dark. 

The sadness inside her thickened. _Even the moon can be conquered_, she thought with a frown. 

She stood there for a few minutes, her breath clouding up the glass, thinking of nothing specific. Then, it began to snow – so softly and lightly at first, Ginny didn't notice. 

Slowly, the flakes became bigger, and fluffier, and all at once Ginny knew why she felt like a part of her had been stolen.

It _had_. And that very part, the chunk of her soul, was in the possession of Draco Malfoy. 

She had brushed off her feelings for him hoping they would just fade, and she still believed that, in time, it would. She wasn't sure about her ideas about love – if a person was meant for just one other person, one soul mate, then what would happen if that soul mate died? Where would that other person be then? – but she did know that if she didn't see Draco again, she'd curse herself forever in wonder. For the rest of her life, even if she grew up and married a nice man who didn't seemed to always want to insult her and was blissfully happy with him, she knew she'd stop and think, _What if this was Draco?_

A quick glance at the clock told her it was only about eleven. If she hurried, she would be able to steal a broomstick from the shed and fly to Hogsmeade in less than an hour. Then she could Floo herself to Draco's house. Most chances were that Draco was awake, so that wouldn't be much of a problem. However, she guessed – or rather, hoped – his fireplaces were open in the Floo network. If not, then _that_ would definitely be an issue.

If it wasn't open to Floo, then . . . well, she'd wait until holiday vacation came around and take a day to fly there the entire way by broomstick. 

Determined and wide awake, she hurried over to her trunk to get dressed in something warm. She also grabbed a couple of Galleons her mother had given her, warning her to only use them in extreme emergencies. Well, this wasn't exactly an emergency, but it would be nice to have money just in case.

After she was ready, she left the dormitory silently, and crept down into the common room. It was dark and silent, the fire having burned down to simmering wood. She knew her way around well enough to be able to see without much light.

The Fat Lady swung open for her without question – she was half asleep and mumbled something incoherently. Ginny hurried away before the Fat Lady realized what she'd done and wake up fully.

Only once did Ginny have to dive behind a large tapestry when Filch walked by – most fortunately without Mrs. Norris. He was muttering to himself, and when his voice faded and then died out completely, she dashed out and hurried to the nearest staircase, wanting to get off the floor as soon as possible.

The main doors were locked, and a simple _Alohomora_ wouldn't open them. Ginny frowned, and cursed under her breath. There were several other ways out – _there has to be_, she thought – but she wasn't sure where they were. 

Her guess was there was most likely one in the kitchens. Once, last year, Ron had shown her where the kitchens were, and how to get there. It was worth a try; the house-elves were so friendly they might not mind if she decided to just waltz out of the kitchens. Besides, it was nearly midnight. Why would they be cooking so late? 

To her surprise, the room wasn't empty, but full of sleeping house-elves. Most of them were on the floor, rolled in a large blanket, and a few of them were sitting up in chairs, sound asleep. One was snoring away, drooling on top of one of the tables. Ginny desperately hoped if that was a table they used to prepare food on, that they'd clean it before they put any food there.

Her eyes scanned the room, looking for another door. There was another one, on the other side of the room. She could only hope it led outside.

Crossing the kitchen was a huge task. It seemed everywhere she wanted to put her foot, there was some limb of a house-elf. She ended up tip-toeing through most of them, holding her arms out for balance. Once she missed and accidentally stepped on the face of one of the elves, but it just snorted and rolled over, still sleeping. 

Finally, after what seemed like forever, she had reached the door. It, too, was locked, but when she whispered, "_Alohomora_" it snapped right open.

Apparently, no students had ever left the castle through the kitchens before.

She slipped out, the cold air hitting her fiercely. Wrapping her cloak tighter around her, she tried to figure out in which direction the Quidditch pitch was. She'd never exited on this side of the castle and wasn't sure which way to go.

It didn't take long to figure it out. Her breath coming out in tiny clouds, she hurried over the slippery, frosty grass, praying that no teacher with insomnia would be looking out their window that moment.

The broom shed also opened to _Alohomora_, and Ginny had reasons to believe that the reason it was so easy to get to the broomsticks was because they were all hexed with Locater Spells. Well, it didn't matter; she would be back before morning, so there would be no reason to track her. 

She lit up her wand and looked at her broomstick choices. Of course, all of them were several years old, the oldest being the majority: Comet 260's. There were a few Nimbuses, some 2000's, some 2001's. And then there were a couple of Twigger 90's. Ginny wasn't stupid – she'd heard enough from her brother's about broomsticks, and knew that the Nimbus 2001, being the most recent, was her best choice.

Ginny grabbed a Nimbus 2001 and hopped on. She kicked off into the air until she was high enough to see the lights of Hogsmeade in the distance. Then she headed in the direction as fast as the broom would go, the cold air numbing her face and fingers.

The flight was only about ten minutes long, but when she got there she was chilled to the bone. She landed directly in front of Dervish and Banges, a wizard equipment shop. 

Inside, it looked dark, and a sign hung in the door that read _Closed_.

Ginny's stomach drooped with disappointment. She'd hoped that maybe parts of it would still be open, despite the late hour . . .

Suddenly she got a daring idea. She knew she would never have the chance to come here when the store would be open, so she might as well try to get in now and get it over with.

She would break in.

Ginny stood there in the freezing cold and tried all the spells she knew. She tried to make the glass in the door disappear, but obviously it had been hexed to repel the magic. She attempted to put a Bending Charm on the door, so she could tilt it to the side as she stepped in. No use. Then, she took her broomstick in both hands and hurled it at the glass, beating it fiercely, thinking she could just repair it if she broke it. But again, it was protected, and didn't so much as tremble with the force she used.

She finally got desperate enough to transfigure a stick lying nearby into a hairpin, so she could pick the lock. It was only then she noticed that there _wasn't_ a lock; it was sealed by magic, not by a simple Muggle device.

She bit back a shriek of frustration. 

_Don't give up_, she told herself firmly. 

There _had_ to be a way in. Ginny may not have been a _powerful_ witch, as Tom had pointed out, but she was rather clever. Power wasn't everything; one needed brains to use that power. Ginny thought, or maybe hoped, that she had enough brains to figure this out.

Ginny stepped back into the street, looking up at the building. It was two stories, and she guessed that the upper level was probably the home of the owners. She didn't want to go in that way unless she absolutely had to. 

But . . . something caught her eye. The window to the far left. It was open a crack.

Who would open their window on such a cold night?

She hopped on to her broom, her heart pounding with excitement of success and the fear of being caught. Hovering underneath the open window, she peeked in. It was too dark to see anything, but she stuck her wand tip into the opening and whispered a couple of words. A white spark hissed from the end and fell to the floor, glowing gently. It revealed a tiny bathroom.

The spark went out a second later, but she had seen what she needed to. The door to the bathroom was wide open – Ginny suspected both that and the window were open to rid the room of an unpleasant odor. Still, she would be able to slip in without too much noise.

She did a quick Silencing Spell so the window wouldn't squeak, and slowly opened it wide enough for her to get in through. She flew up so her knees were parallel with the sill, and stuck her legs inside. A moment later she was in, and hurried to grab her broom and bring it in with her. 

There. She was inside. Now she had to get down to the store.

After returning the window to its proper position – open only a tiny bit – she left the toilet and stepped into a dark hall. To her left there was a staircase; to her right, the hall continued on with a series of closed doors. 

The staircase was what she wanted.

She tiptoed down. Her heart was thudding so hard within her chest she thought she might wake whoever was sleeping upstairs. Yet somehow, this fear wasn't terrifying or numbing. This fear was . . . exciting. Thrilling. The thought that she was doing something as daring as breaking into a store made her exhilarated. 

At the bottom of the stairs was a door. She opened it and stepped into the store itself.

Ginny had been in Dervish and Banges once before, and had seen a row of fireplaces in the wall in the back. She'd seen several wizards and witches disappearing into the flames, obviously leaving by Floo. When she'd asked about it, the clerk had told her that most people came by Floo and left the same way. They were communal fireplaces, open to anyone who wanted to use them.

She had hoped she would still be able to use them at such a late hour.

But now, they were dark and silent. On the mantel above each was a bottle of Floo powder. 

Ginny's fingers itched with anticipation. She'd been so intent on getting inside she had forgot the chance that Draco's house might not be connected to the Floo network.

_Might as well try, now that I'm here_, she thought dryly.

She started a fire with her wand instantly. The warmth and light washed over her face. 

As if afraid that the light would summon someone, she glanced over her should to make sure the store was empty. While she did so, she reached for the bottle of Floo powder. She miscalculated the position it was in, and her fingers bumped into it clumsily.

She whipped her head back around just in time to see the bottle topple off the mantel and crash to the floor. 

"Oops," she said quietly and idiotically.

The powder was visible through the jagged pieces of glass, and for a moment, Ginny considered reaching down and using it. But the contact with the floor must've activated something, because two things happened at once during that moment.

The powder vaporized into the air, disappearing without a trace. 

And an alarm went off.

Ginny froze. The noise must've sent off the alarm, she realized. The shrill beeping filled her ears, giving her the urge to clap her hands over them. Through the noise, she heard a loud thump upstairs.

The owners knew she was there now.

_Oh . . . this isn't good_, she thought.

Now, more than ever, she prayed that Draco's house was connected to the Floo network. Without thinking twice, she reached for another bottle of Floo powder, took a pinch out, and threw it into her fire. She set the bottle back, grabbed her broom, and jumped into the green flames.

"What the hell . . .?" she heard a groggy voice say thickly. 

She saw a man stumble out of the staircase door, and knew she had to get out of there quickly – before he could identify her.

_Please, Draco, please be connected to Floo! _she prayed.

"Malfoy's mansion!" she said sharply, clearly, but as quietly as she could manage. She could only hope she said the right thing.

Immense relief swept through her body as she began to spin violently. She was going 

somewhere! At that moment, any place but here would work. Clutching the broom to her chest, keeping her elbows close to her sides, she closed her eyes and waited for the twirling to end.

It seemed she spun for a very long time, when it couldn't have been longer for a minute. Just when she felt like she was going to vomit, she stopped abruptly, so suddenly she lost her balance.

She fell forward, out of whatever fireplace she had come to stop at, and dropped to her knees. The broomstick bumped gently into the carpet that greeted her line of vision.

_I made it_, she told herself with a great sigh of relief. _I got away_.

Her relief soon melted away. When she lifted her head, she found she was in a large room, decorated richly, but quite clearly somebody's office. And standing behind the desk, staring at her with a raised eyebrow and cold, questioning eyes, was Lucius Malfoy. 

Ginny found she was speechless. Her mouth dropped open, and she felt like the stupidest idiot on the planet. Her face heated up so brightly she knew it was a flaming red. 

Lucius Malfoy had been looking through a few parchments, and he still held one in midair, staring at her. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something. Nothing intelligent came to mind.

"Hi," she mumbled, and, not believing it possible, felt her face burn more.

"May I help you?" Lucius asked frigidly. 

His tone reminded Ginny of Draco, and instantly, she felt some courage come back. 

_Draco_, she reminded herself. _I'm here for Draco_.

She rose to her feet, pretending to be occupied with dusting her cloak off so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye. When she was through, she said shakily, "I need to speak with your son."

"Are you aware of the time?" He apparently was ignoring her.

"I need to speak with your son," she said again, her tone still trembling. "I doubt he's asleep."

He didn't reply, and she had to look back at him to make sure he was still in the room and that he was listening to her. For sure he was, and he was giving her the oddest look she'd ever received in her life. It was a cross between disbelief, indignation, and amusement. 

"_You_ want to speak to Draco?" he asked with a curled lip, as if someone as lowly as her wasn't considered good enough to talk to his son.

Ginny had several good retorts to say, but swallowed them. "Yes," she said, now in control a bit more.

"No," Lucius replied simply.

"No?" she repeated dumbly.

"You cannot speak with him," Lucius told her, sneering. "He does not wish to see you. Now leave, before I call the Ministry to remove you."

"Doesn't want to see me?" she echoed, still sounding like a complete fool.

"That is just what I said," he snapped. "Must you repeat it? Leave."

He returned to his parchments.

"Did he say he didn't want to see me?" she demanded.

"I know he won't want to see you," Lucius said without looking up. "You have approximately two seconds to remove yourself before I do it myself."

Unfazed, and now a bit angry, Ginny said snappishly, "You don't even _know_ my first name, Mr. Malfoy. I doubt Draco has told you that he doesn't want to see me."

Lucius returned his gray eyes to her, looking furious. He dropped his papers to his desk. "All right, I have given you ample time. Now I am going to have you _thrown_ out of my house –"

Ginny felt that familiar, petrifying fear trickle up beneath her ribs as he started to cross the room towards her. She somehow found her steady voice and responded, "Just ask him. Just ask him if he doesn't want to see Ginny Weasley. And then I will leave."

Lucius ignored her, and Ginny winced, preparing for him to grab her. Instead, he walked by her and went to the door. Opening it, he gestured. "Take a left and then a second right. That should take you out, Miss Weasley."

She knew then that she would get no help from him. She would have to find Draco's room on her own.

Great.

"Well, thank you for your time," Ginny said, sarcasm laced in every word. 

She didn't look at Lucius as she left the office. When she had just barely stepped out, he slammed the door behind her, causing her to jump at the bang. 

Ginny turned to glare at the door. "Shit-head," she hissed.

She stood in the hallway, trying to decide what to do. Well, she certainly wasn't going 

to leave. She'd risked a lot to get here, and Lucius Malfoy didn't scare her; he couldn't get rid of her that easily. Not when it'd been such a task to come here. 

So . . . she would look for Draco.

Chances were he was in his bedroom, though she doubted he was sleeping. For some reason, Draco struck her as a person who stayed up until midmorning. 

_His bedroom_, Ginny thought. _If I was Draco Malfoy, and I lived in a mansion, where would I want my room to be?_

She didn't have a clue. 

The house was big, yes, but she would have to search every room to see if it was his. 

Carefully, too – it would not be intelligent to barge into a room that was occupied by Mrs. Malfoy. 

Ginny wandered around aimlessly, and quietly, continually listening for approaching footsteps. The gigantic house seemed abandoned; most of the house-elves and the few people who occupied it must've been in bed already. She was grateful.

As she looked around, she got a very good idea of how rich the Malfoys really were. 

All the furniture was spotless; new; expensive. It was amazing anyone would want to touch it, let alone sit or sleep on it. 

Ginny was evidently on the first level, which was rather open. There were barely any closed doors between rooms – rather, big arched openings connected the huge rooms. The only place that was really closed off was the kitchen, and she knew that was because it was where the house-elves worked, and were to be kept out of sight.

She found the wide, curving staircase that led upstairs, and was slightly relieved. She knew that Draco's bedroom would be up there. 

Now that she was here, and only minutes away from finding Draco, she began to have second thoughts. How would he react when he saw her? Would he tell her to go away? 

Would he give her a chance to explain how she felt?

And if he did give her a chance, would she have the courage? To say to his face that she was madly in love with him, and wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anybody in her entire life?

Apprehension bubbled in her stomach.

She tried to imagine what it would feel like if Draco told her he didn't love . . . like her. She tried to think of a witty reply to throw back at him if he said, "Get lost, Weasley – I only snogged you because you were the only person I knew there."

Ginny found that it hurt far too much to imagine, that it caused her eyes to burn with obnoxious tears.

What a _fool _she was to fall in love with Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Draco couldn't sleep. So far, he hadn't been able to get Jack out of his room. Oh, it would be easy to do so, but he had no idea where to _put _the damned animal. He needed to find a barn, and when he did, he'd have to pay for him to stay there. Not that the money was a problem, but he would have to explain to his father where his spending money was going so rapidly.

And he didn't want to do that.

The troubling thoughts weren't what were keeping him awake, though. It was the stench. The smell of horse.

Outside, in fresh air, Jack hadn't been too bad. But since he'd been in the room all day, it was beginning to reek quite splendidly. And though Jack was standing against the wall, fast asleep, he was a noisy one while he slept – he snorted and whinnied several times. Draco had to soundproof the walls so no one in the house would hear but him.

And he would have put a fragrancing spell in his room, if he had known how to do such. When he'd learned magic, though, learning how to make a room smell nice wasn't his top priority.

So now he was suffering the consequences.

With a deep sigh, Draco rolled over and glanced at his clock. Nearly one. It wasn't the latest he'd ever been up, for sure, but for once, he actually wanted to sleep.

As much as it was a relief to be back in his house, away from Tom Riddle, he wasn't really happy that he was. At least in 1607, there'd been a little sister to play with. And Ginny to snog. Here . . . well, it would be easy to get a replacement snogger, but he had the strongest urge to play cards. And he knew any _replacement snogger _would be kind and let him win. That just wouldn't be fun.

_Fun._He scoffed at himself. He hadn't had _fun_ since he'd stopped picking on Potter and his friends in seventh year. And he hadn't had any desire to have a good time since then. 

Damn Ginny. He really hated her. She made him want to play cards with her. She made him want to snog her, and her only. What was her _problem_? Did she think she could just do that to anyone – walk into their lives, and totally ruin _everything_?

He gritted his teeth. God, he hated her.

Yet at the moment, he was developing a rather strong dislike for horses as well. It somehow surpassed his thoughts on Ginny, and with a sigh of impatience, he threw his covers off and got out of bed. He wasn't going to fall asleep in this room – that was for sure.

Draco decided he would sleep in one of the guest rooms, and put a Locking Charm on the door so no one would walk in to find Jack. It seemed like a good plan, but before he had a chance to even start to carry it out, someone knocked on the door.

The knock confused him. Only one person knocked on his door gently, and that was his mother. And he was sure Narcissa wasn't awake at this hour, and if she was, then she wouldn't be bothering him. Lucius Malfoy always pounded on the door and then walked in without waiting for a reply. 

It wasn't his mother or father, and it certainly wouldn't be the hired help. So who would be knocking on his door so late at night?

The fact that it _was_ a person, and that they wanted to come in to his room, caused him to panic slightly. What would he do with Jack?

"Just a minute," Draco said, before realizing his room was soundproof – whoever it was couldn't hear him.

He didn't have a chance to attempt to hide Jack. The door opened to reveal –

Ginny.

Draco blinked, wondering maybe if he was hallucinating. It took him all of two seconds to come to the conclusion that, no, he was not imagining things. Ginny 

Weasley was standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

The light from the hallway spilled in, just enough so Ginny could squint and see into the dark room. Her eyes travelled over Draco's unmade bed, to Draco himself, to Jack, and then back to Draco.

He stared back at her, making mental note of how much he wanted to hate her wild mane of red hair, how much he wanted to hate her freckles, how much he wanted hate that worn-out cloak she was wearing . . . he even wanted to hate the way she was gripping a broomstick in her right hand, the way it caused her knuckles to whiten. But for the first time ever, as he thought of how much he should hate all this, he just couldn't feel it. For the first time in his life, he was happy beyond anything he could comprehend that Ginny was standing there awkwardly and looking expectantly at his face. 

Why was she doing this to him?

"There's a horse in my room," Draco commented suddenly, for lack of anything else to say. 

And Ginny smiled at that, a bright, humorous smile, glancing over at Jack's sleeping form. "It was a present from Dumbledore," she said softly.

"Wonderful." Draco sneered. "Did you get such a spectacular present as well?"

"Not quite." Her smile faded, and she seemed embarrassed.

"Well," said Draco loudly. "Is there a reason you're in my room also?"

"Yes," she answered, locking her eyes with his. "Can we talk?"

"What do you think we're doing?" 

She frowned at him. "No, I mean serious talk."

"Civilized conversation?"

"I'm being serious, Draco!" she snapped.

"I'm not laughing, Ginny," he retorted. "If you want to talk, fine. Go ahead. I'm listening."

She seemed to falter, and looked around the room. As if realizing something then, she wrinkled her nose. "It smells in here."

"Yeah. Well, generally that happens when there's a horse around," he said sharply, getting annoyed now. 

"Is there any other room we can go?"

"I think where we are is just fine." Now he was just trying to be stubborn. "I would like to get to sleep sometime tonight, Ginny. So have you anything intelligent to say to me?"

She sighed with exasperation. "Fine. _Fine_. But can I at least sit down?"

He gestured to his desk chair. "Sit all you'd like," he told her with a smirk.

"And it would be useful to have some light," she added, using magic to light all the candles in less than a second. 

She shut the door and crossed over to the desk chair, sitting down. She removed her cloak and took her precious time placing it neatly on the back of her seat. Then, she stood once more, set her broomstick against the wall, and finally returned to her chair. It seemed she was situated, but then she jerked as if she remembered something, and pulled off her jumper¹. Resting back in her seat, she looked as though she planned to wait for sunrise before she proceeded to speak her mind.

"Like I said before," Draco told her icily, "I _would_ like to sleep for at least an hour or two. Could you hurry it up?"

Ginny shot him a fiery look. "Just shut up, all right, Draco? You'll get your precious sleep, I promise. Just give me ten minutes."

He crossed his arms over his bare chest, and smiled slickly at her. "I'm counting."

She chose to ignore him. "First thing. Don't you care to know why Tom brought us into that world?"

"Not particularly."

"Liar."

"Tell me."

She sighed, ran a hand through her hair, and then proceeded to tell him everything 

Tom had told her. It took nearly all of the promised ten minutes, but by the time she was finished, Draco had forgotten about the time-length and had to ask many questions that were on his mind. She seemed to know just about everything he asked, which surprised him.

"I spoke with Dumbledore," she explained, obviously reading his slightly impressed expression. "He told me everything Tom didn't."

"So it was the old man who saved us," Draco said with a cocky grin. "I must admit my respect for him has gone up a notch or two."

She glared at him, her brown eyes made darker with aggravation. 

Draco stopped smiling, uncrossed his arms, and sat down on his bed. "You came here just to tell me this?" he said slowly. "When you could've written it in a letter?"

At that, her gaze dropped to her lap and she seemed interested in picking at a nail. She was nervous about something, and for some reason, that made Draco feel uneasy. 

"I also had something else to . . . to run by you," she mumbled, avoiding looking him in the eye. 

Jack snorted in his sleep.

Ginny turned her attention to him, and half-smiled. "You really need to get that poor horse out of here."

"Do you really think so?" Draco asked earnestly with a completely sombre face.

"I got a present from Dumbledore, too," she announced rather abruptly, occupied once more with her nails. 

"Yes, so you told me." He made sure he sounded impatient and bothered.

"It wasn't an animal," she persisted. "It was our . . . our wedding picture."

Draco had to work a bit to keep his features blank. "The one that took three hours?"

"No, the other one," Ginny spat sarcastically, throwing him a look that clearly pointed out that she thought him an idiot. 

He chose to ignore her. "I'm still slightly confused, Ginny," Draco drawled meticulously, tapping a finger to his chin. "You came here in the middle of the night to explain why we were sent back in time, and then to say that you'd gotten our wedding portrait . . . when you could've simply wrote me about it?"

She blushed furiously, and he had to grin. 

"Isn't it obvious why I'm here?" she demanded thickly.

"No. Not really, no," he said bluntly.

"God, you're a git," she muttered, and pressed the heels of her hands to her closed eyes. She shook her head, opened her eyes, and sucked in a deep breath. "All right, I'll just say it. I came here to discuss us."

Well. Now he felt very stupid. He should've known that, by the way she was acting. Maybe he just didn't want to admit it to himself. 

_I guess there's no avoiding it, he thought_. She wanted to talk about the possibility of a relationship between them, and he was going to have to listen.

"Fine" was all he said.

"Fine?" she echoed weakly. "Fine . . . okay."

There was a long pause, in which Ginny stood up and went to stroke Jack's flank, and Draco watched her. He wasn't sure if she was waiting for him to say something first, but if she was, she was going to have to wait a long time. 

"So what do you think?" she finally said.

"About what?" 

She looked away from Jack and shot him a fiery look. "Quit being stupid, Draco," she said shortly. 

He sucked in a breath. "I haven't given us much thought," he told her, lying a bit. He definitely had thought about it, but hadn't come to any conclusions yet.

"Well, maybe you should start," she said furiously, narrowing her eyes at him. 

Once again there was a stretch of silence. Ginny sighed several times, the hard look on her face softening into something that resembled defeat. She patted Jack one last time, and then came to sit next to Draco on the bed.

It was not good for him to be so close to her. Especially when he was only wearing pajama bottoms. 

Not good for him at all.

"Fine, I'll just say it," she said, her voice wavering a little. 

She met his gaze, and he found he couldn't look away. Ginny was doing it again – breaking down his defenses, making him feel things he shouldn't be feeling. Making him feel things he didn't want to feel. 

"It's really hard," she admitted softly, her mouth curving into a smile. 

She brought her face closer to his, as if sensing a passionate moment. Their noses touched. 

Heart pounding, he tried desperately to think of something witty before he lost all his senses completely. "Well," he told her huskily, "as long as you aren't confessing that you're really a man, then you can tell me anything you want."

She broke into a wide grin and gave a small laugh. "No, I'm not a man," she said without loosing her delighted expression.

He couldn't answer. He was afraid if he opened his mouth he would have to kiss her. 

_Oh, Christ, get away from me_, he thought desperately.

She didn't. Slowly her smile faded, and her eyes roamed over his face, as if she were trying to file his looks away in her memory. His breath was coming out in short spurts, but she didn't seem to notice. Lifting her hand, she gently trailed her fingertips along his jawbone, and resting them on his lips.

"God, you're beautiful," she whispered.

Draco lost whatever tiny grasp he had on his control, and leaned forward to kiss her. 

Her arms went around his neck, and his went to her waist to pull her closer to him. She obliged, shifting around so that she was straddling his lap. Without breaking contact, she placed both palms on his chest and smoothly pushed him back to the bed.

Uh oh. In the back of his mind, Draco had enough sense to realize that here he was, kissing Ginny Weasley once again, and that he definitely shouldn't be doing this. 

However, as Ginny's hands roamed over his bare chest, somehow finding room in between their molded bodies, he found that he didn't care in the slightest. 

He was going to enjoy her, and he wasn't going to worry about it.

Ginny's lips left his to trail off down his cheek, down his neck . . . without thinking, he found the bottom of her shirt and tugged it off her, throwing it somewhere to the side. 

She lifted her head only briefly for him to get it off, then returned to her small kisses, 

now raining down on his right shoulder. She held him tightly by the ribs, as if she were trying to keep him still as she began now to trace her way down his chest . . .

Down near his naval . . . 

Down . . .

Before he could even begin to comprehend what was going on, Ginny paused at the elastic waist of his pajama trousers. Then, clearly not able to help herself, she pressed her lips firmly against his skin and blew a raspberry.

He burst out laughing, unable to stop himself. No one had ever done that to him before, and he found it oddly hilarious. She glanced up and met his eyes, grinning once more with her eyes bright.

Draco's smile faded sluggishly.

Then, as graceful as a cat, she crawled back up so she could prop herself on her hands and stare down at him. For a long moment she said nothing; her face blank, but her dark eyes even darker with infatuation. 

She leisurely lowered herself into the nook of his arm, tilting her head so her breath was warm on his neck and cheek. Gently, she turned his head so his mouth would meet hers. Instead of pressing herself against him, however, she just brushed her lips to his, causing him to suppress a shudder.

Then, she whispered in a slow, drawn-out tone: "I love you."

He stiffened involuntarily, but she didn't seem to notice. Now he felt slightly ridiculous. Of _course _that's what she'd wanted to tell him. How could he have been so thick as to not realize it?

Her gaze was on his features, waiting for him to reply. He would have to say _something_ – hell, he would be satisfied if he could squeak out the word _banana_. 

Finally, swallowing and then licking his lips, he whispered back, "Do you?"

Inwardly, he cringed. _Do you? _What kind of idiot arsed question was _that_? She'd just _said_ she did, why would she change her mind a second later?

But Ginny seemed not to have observed his stupidity. "I do," she answered almost dreamily.

_I do_. It was like getting married to her all over again . . . like ice water running over him. It jerked him almost painfully out of his state of mind, and his normal self broke free.

He sat up abruptly, the skin Ginny had just been pressed against growing cold instantly. 

"No you don't," he said tonelessly. "You just think you do."

_You can't love me_, he added. _You can't_.

But for some reason, he couldn't think of why she couldn't. For the life of him, he couldn't think of why it was such a bad thing. And for the first time in his life, he wondered if he was scared.

Scared of letting someone get too close to him. Scared of showing someone that he was . . . well, _human._

He could feel her staring at him, and then heard her muffled cry of frustration. 

_"Oooh_. You _are _a git, Malfoy," she declared hotly, standing up. "You haven't a _clue_ what I think or what I feel."

He wouldn't look at her, but he saw from the corner of his eye as she searched wildly for her shirt. He saw as she thrust her arms through the holes and heaved it over her head. She then spun on one heel, just about ran across the room, threw the door open, and hurried out. 

"Argh," Draco groaned.

He buried his face in his hands and fell backwards onto his bed. Of course she'd stormed out – he'd hurt her feelings. It wasn't unusual for him to be so cold-hearted, but for once, he felt positively shitty about it.

It was then he remembered she'd left her jumper, cloak, and broomstick in his room. 

He sat up and glanced at the items, wondering if she'd come back for them. 

A moment later, she was back in the room, fury radiating from her as she stomped over to her things and grabbed them quickly. Then, trying to calm herself, she turned to Draco without looking at him.

"How do I get out of here?" she said in a controlled voice.

He heaved a sigh, realizing he would have to help her. Getting to his feet, he replied, 

"There's a back staircase the house-elves use, and a backdoor that's rarely ever locked. I'll show you."

The last sentence came out as a grumble.

"I can find it myself," she said stubbornly.

"Ha. No you can't," he told her matter-of-factly. "Any uninvited guests in the Malfoy Mansion can't ever find a way out. Just last week we caught some idiot who was trying to rob us, using the toilet. He'd been in the house for a week."

Ginny seemed to forget her anger momentarily. "Really?" she said.

"Yes. Now let's go, and fast."

Her eyes glazed over and she pressed her lips together, but followed him obediently. 

Draco could almost feel how tense her body was as they walked as quietly as possible down the dark hallway. He speculated whether or not to say anything to her. There was nothing he could say, he found, that would sound right. Everything he could think of was far too mushy, far too corny . . . just far too not him.

_She'll just leave_, he thought. _She'll just leave and walk out of my life, and I'll never see her again._

That was supposed to cheer him up; to get him to believe that he would get over her and move on, leaving this brief fascination for her behind as a bad memory. But it only made him feel like his stomach was made of lead, and cause his heart to thump almost excruciatingly in his chest. 

_God, just _forget _about her_, he told himself harshly, having the sudden urge to throw himself against the wall. Hard. So he would knock whatever was wrong with him out.

They reached the back stairway and he led the way down the narrow passage, arguing with himself inside his head. He'd never had such a dilemma before . . . not one like this. And it annoyed him thoroughly.

* * *

Ginny's mind was racing, thinking of several things at once. She wondered if Lucius had let her leave his office alone in hopes that she would get lost in the house, if what Draco said was true. She wondered if she had ever been more furious with Draco Malfoy before. 

But most of all, she wondered if she'd ever felt so badly. Oh, there had been numerous times in her life that she regretted – her first year, that time she was trying to get back at the twins for something and ended up accidentally exploding their box of money saved up for their wizard shop – but somehow this was different. She knew that she would get over Draco; she knew that. But somehow it still hurt incredibly. 

How could Draco make her feel worse now than she had back in her first year?

It seemed impossible, and yet, it was happening.

She couldn't really explain it, either. That's what was frustrating her so much. How could one person who was not in her family have such an amazing hold on her?

When she'd been kissing him on his bed a few moments earlier, she felt like she was in heaven. It had been exactly what she'd been yearning for ever since the last time they'd kissed. And then she had just blurted out that she'd loved him, and he had been so cruel as to not realize how difficult it'd been for her. He had told her she didn't, as if she had just gotten some random desire to say those words to him.

As if he knew how she felt.

That's what was driving her crazy.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and began to walk down a long, narrow hall. Ginny guessed this was a part of the house guests normally didn't see. It wasn't as finely furnished as the rest of the mansion.

"My father's office is right here," Draco told her quietly over his shoulder, his tone blank. He pointed to a door slightly ahead and to the left. "So don't make a sound."

"Have I been _making _a sound?" she hissed at him.

Just at that moment, what Draco had obviously been dreading happened – Lucius's office door opened. 

Ginny stopped dead, and Draco wasn't too far behind in following the suit. She watched the door as if everything had suddenly gone in slow motion . . . what would he do if he found Draco with her . . . ?

Draco managed to snap her out of seeing everything so slowly. It all seemed like on swift movement. He turned slickly, opened the nearest door, grabbed Ginny's arm, and pulled her in with him. Then he spun back, and shut the door just enough so he could see out.

Ginny stood back, an odd smell reaching her nose. It smelled like . . .

She glanced behind her, and found that there was a rather large swimming pool in the room.

. . . chlorine.

It was dark inside, but most of the room was made of windows, so moonlight lit it enough for Ginny to see the still pool. Temporarily she asked herself just how rich the Malfoys were, if they had an indoor swimming pool, but she found it didn't matter. 

She returned her attention to Draco just as he closed the door completely with absolutely zero noise. He then turned to face her.

"He didn't hear you," Draco said, his face emotionless but his voice rather harsh, even if it was quiet. "He was just leaving his office and then suddenly remembered something, evidently. Now the door's open and we'll have to wait until he's gone. We can't risk it."

Ginny sneered, a trait very unlike her. "What, afraid of what your father would think if he saw us together?" 

"Afraid isn't the word," he snapped. "If you'd like, I could just return to my bedroom and leave you to wander around and be found by yourself."

"You know that's not what I'd like," she retorted, crossing her arms underneath her breasts and glaring down at the pool.

"Don't talk so loud," said Draco, glancing back at the door. "His office is right next door."

"Do these windows open?" Ginny asked abruptly, gesturing towards one of them. "I could leave that way."

Draco scowled at her. "No. There's a door there –" Ginny glanced over to where he was looking and sure enough, there was a glass door leading outside that she had missed because it blended in with all the windows. " – but that's one of the most guarded doors of the house, because it's made of glass. It would take me hours to figure out how to get it to open without waking the entire place."

Ginny frowned. Great.

"So what? We just hang out by the pool until your dad shuts his door?" she asked grumpily. 

"It's a nice pool," Draco shrugged, not really replying. 

She tried not to glare at him. In fact, she tried not to look at him. But it was hard, when every nerve ending was tingling with a longing to touch him again.

How could she have allowed herself to fall in love with _him_? Of all people! Her mind should have told her heart that he wasn't the type to return the feeling. She should have known she would be hurt. But obviously she hadn't, and now she was stuck in the Malfoy Mansion. Not only could she be punished thoroughly – suspended, perhaps – if she didn't return to Hogwarts before anyone missed her, but someone might put two things together and realize it was her who had broken into Dervish and Banges. 

_That_ definitely could not happen. 

With a sigh, Ginny set her clothing and broomstick down on the floor, tired of carrying them. Who knew how long Lucius was going to be.

Draco opened the door once again and peered out. A second later he announced, 

"He's talking to someone . . . probably somebody from the Ministry."

Like she _cared_. She sighed again heavily, wishing there was a chair she could sit in. 

The smell of chlorine was starting to get to her, and the thick humidity didn't help much either.

Draco must've noticed her annoyance, because he added, "If he doesn't go or close his door in five minutes, then we'll just make a run for it. Go back the way we came. All right?"

"Fine," she answered sullenly.

She was pouting, and she knew it. But at the moment she didn't have the strength to correct her attitude. 

There was a long, awkward silence after that. She hadn't a clue what to say to him, and she knew he didn't want to speak with her. 

No sooner had she formed those words in her mind when Draco said, "Did you honestly think we could get married in _this _world as well?"

It was so unexpected that Ginny couldn't hide her shock as she whirled around to face him. "Wh-what?" she stammered.

His face was stony, his arms crossed casually over his chest. Leaning back against the door, he replied. "You so much as said so." He hesitated slightly. "By telling me what you did."

At this, Ginny had to smile coldly. "Can't even say it, Draco? Can't even say that I told you I loved you?"

His expression didn't change.

"I didn't want to," she said bitterly. "I knew you wouldn't ever feel the same way about me."

He squinted his eyes, and raised his eyebrow slightly. "Then why did you come?"

Fair question. She knew why, but she didn't know how to tell him. She couldn't say that she had needed to come, hoping that there was a slight chance he _might_ want her back. Couldn't say that she would've never forgiven herself if she didn't make sure he didn't love her back.

And she definitely couldn't say that she missed the stunning sight of him. 

He stared at her hard, waiting for her to reply, and she glanced briefly at his silver hair, which was falling over his forehead and into his eyes. She looked at his smooth, bare chest, and remembered how it felt when she'd run her hands across it. She then returned to his gaze and shrugged carelessly, as if it didn't matter why she had come.

Draco seemed to glare at her, his gray eyes glittering, and he strode around her to the edge of the pool. He looked down at it for a minute, clearly thinking before he turned back to her.

"I would like to clue you in on something, Ginny," Draco began, looking as if he were about to give a lecture. "Every time we are in the same ten-mile radius, we manage to bother the hell out of each other. Your six brothers hate me. I hate them. My father would probably commit suicide from the shame it would cause him if I ever even hinted that I wanted to be in a relationship with you.

"That brings me back to the original point – we always _fight_. What kind of couple would we be if we just fought over every little thing?" he demanded.

"We could work it out, Draco," she said, making it sound like that was the most obvious thing.

"We _could_," he agreed, "if we could stop arguing long enough."

"We don't argue all the time!" she insisted. 

"Right." He smirked a bit icily. "Let's count the times we haven't fought. When I saved your arse from those gypsies. And when we're snogging. That's about . . . what, ten percent of the time we spend together not arguing?"

_But it's the snogging that made me fall in love with you_, she thought, blushing. 

Actually, that wasn't entirely true. It was the kissing that made her notice Draco as something other than a prat. She had fallen in love with _him_. Even his sarcastic remarks, his cold smiles that never reached his eyes, and his snappy replies. It was him that she wanted, and she was willing to risk a couple of stupid, pointless rows for it.

Draco wasn't, obviously.

It was then she was struck with a sudden thought. Why was Draco trying to _explain _this to her? Why was he even bothering at all? He could easily get her out of the house without saying a single word to her. _She_ didn't need to know why they wouldn't work out. She knew what he would say. It was useless.

So then maybe . . . maybe Draco was trying to convince himself just as much as her. 

Maybe he had something that resembled positive feelings for her, and was trying to prove to himself that he didn't need to feel anything.

It was an odd thought, but somehow, it seemed to make sense. Perhaps Draco was . . . _scared._

"Why did you save me from the gypsies?" Ginny shot back, jerking away from her contemplations. "You could've just left me there and – poof! – problem solved. No Ginny, no getting married to Ginny."

"Honestly, Ginny," he said irritably. "You'd really think I'd just walk away and leave you there?"

"Why did you follow me in the first place?" she fired. 

He mimicked her, shrugging as if it didn't matter.

Trying to control her temper, she crossed her arms once again and sighed through her nose. "All right, Draco," she said, without thinking. "Just say it."

"What?" he demanded.

She narrowed her eyes at him a moment, then dropped her arms to her sides. "Just _say _that you hate me. Go on. I'm listening. The moment you say it, I'm gone. I'll never bother you again. I promise."

His face toughened, his eyes blank and frosty, and his mouth hardened. "All right, Ginny. I hate you."

She blinked, stunned, and searched his face for signs of expression. And she saw it . . . in his eyes flickered something she recognized instantly as regret. Maybe pain, if she dared to think such. 

She wondered why she didn't believe what he said. She wondered why she didn't think for a second he meant that he hated her. She wondered why it felt like he had said that he loved her.

"Liar," she accused gently.

He searched her eyes for a long moment, and then said softly, "You know me too well."

It seemed like she had blinked, and suddenly his lips were on hers and kissing her hard. The minute his tongue was in her mouth, she forgot everything they were talking about, and she responded by pressing her body into his, wanting to be as close to him as possible, never wanting to let him go . . .

Ginny had forgotten that Draco had been standing right on the pool ledge, and had not realized she was leaning into him so hard. He bent back slightly, and lost his balance. 

He broke away just before he started to fall.

And, being in his arms, she was pulled in with him.

She let out a tiny shriek of surprise as she toppled in on top of him. The water was rather cool, though not shockingly so. She felt Draco underneath her, wiggling in the water, and lifted her head out of the surface. Her wet hair plastered to her face, she floundered about a little while before her feet found the bottom. Draco surfaced just a moment after, tossing his own hair out of his eyes, and looking extremely annoyed.

_Whoops_, she thought, feeling a bit stupid. She had been so completely lost in his touch that she had completely forgotten their surroundings. That's exactly what he did to her . . . he made her forget everything and only focus on him.

Draco stood fully in the water, and it came up to his waist. His frustration seemed to vanish as he watched her dunk her hair in the water so she could get it out of her face.

"I can see through your top," he pointed out, grinning at her. 

Ginny looked down, and saw he was right. Her white shirt was clinging to her and her bra and skin were easily seen. Before she had the chance to feel embarrassed, Draco had his hand on the back of her head and was pulling her face to his for another kiss.

As glorious as his skin had felt before in his room, it felt even better now that it was wet. She subconsciously ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back, thinking vaguely that she would never get tired of touching him. She also thought of how wonderfully their bodies seemed to mold together, how perfect it felt to be plastered against him. 

If they were so wrong for each other, then why did everything feel so right?

Draco's fingers were hiking her clingy, dripping shirt up and his touch seemed to burn imprints in her skin. It was like he was branding her with soft fire. 

He tore his lips from hers first, and rested his forehead against hers. He placed his hands on his hips and then said, slightly breathless, "How could we ever make this work?"

"We'll figure it out," she said fiercely. "Do you see what I mean now? It doesn't matter that we fight most of the time. Whenever we _don't_ fight, it feels like this. And I'm willing to risk everything to feel like this, with you. I don't care about your father or my brothers. They'll get over it."

When he didn't reply, she reached up and touched his cheek with her fingertip for a second before dropping it back to the water. 

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Draco," she said mockingly. "I don't want to get married, either. But I'm just saying . . . we could make it work." She pressed her mouth against his firmly for a moment. "I think it would be worth it," she added in a whisper.

Even though he was so close, she could still see him smirk. "Of course you would."

She chose not to take that as an insult. In fact, she wasn't sure how to take it.

Draco reached up and took a clump of her wet hair in his hand, stroking it with his thumb. "I think your hair is both the best and worst part of you," he told her.

She pulled away to stare at him. Now _that_ she would take as an insult. "Excuse me?"

He smiled just a small smile. "It's gorgeous, but . . . everyone in your damn family has it. That's why it's bad."

She relaxed and laughed. "I agree with you. Well, at least with the last part."

Then there was silence, only this time, it wasn't awkward. Ginny rested her cheek against his shoulder, hugging him tightly around his waist. She never knew that one person could make her feel like this; couldn't believe that she was so comfortable with Draco . . . but it was happening, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

Draco sighed heavily. "Well," he drawled. "I suppose we'd better get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."

She lifted her head up to look at him, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "It is?"

"If you think telling our families about us being in a relationship is going to be an easy thing to do, then I really think you're delusional," he smirked. 

Ginny smiled broadly. "We don't _have_ to tell them," she said. "I mean, they don't have to know right away, do they?"

He squinted at her suspiciously. "Are you saying keep us a secret?"

She shrugged, trying to look serious. "It wouldn't be that hard. You could meet me at Hogsmeade occasionally. Tell your dad you're going somewhere else. My family would never find out, as long as we didn't let ourselves be seen."

And then he was smiling at her, smiling warmly and with his entire face. It seemed to make him twenty times more beautiful, and it caused her breath to catch in her throat. 

She would never grow tired of touching him _and_ looking at him. It would just never, ever bore her, and she was certain of that.

"You Gryffindors can come up with decent plans after all," he told her finally. "All right, Ginny. You win. We keep it a secret."

She couldn't seem to stop grinning, but then Draco was kissing her once again, and she found that she could. Sliding her arms around his neck, she once again plastered her wet body against his, her mind blissfully blank.

Draco's hands roamed up and down her sides, down underwater and around her rear. 

He cut off their kiss, and she opened her eyes to find him smirking at her.

"Yes, I'd have to say you're definitely not a man," he murmured.

She giggled at that, well aware she sounded childish but she didn't care at all. Draco leaned forward once more, but instead of kissing her, he put his lips near her ear.

"It's a long flight back to Hogwarts," he whispered, his warm breath causing goose bumps all over her body. "There's plenty of room here."

Ginny conflicted with herself inside her head. If she wasn't back at Hogwarts by morning, they would notice her absence and alert her parents. Then she'd have to explain where she was, and why she'd stolen a broomstick from the shed. She didn't want to do that.

But Draco's invitation was far too wonderful to pass up.

"Draco," she replied back into his ear, "I would love to stay with you."

She wasn't going to get much sleep tonight, and she knew that for a fact. They _would _have their wedding night, only this one would not have any witnesses.

It would be just the two of them.

* * *

¹Jumper is a sweater, to all my American readers.

**_A/N: Since I'm evil, I'll just allow you all to __imagine the D/G smut._**

As I said before, there is something else coming after this, so this isn't quite the end. Still, thank everyone who has read this far, and thank you all for such wonderful reviews. You don't know how much it means to me to hear from you all.

Thanks immensely to:

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	19. Epilogue I

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended

A/N: Okay, since ff.net has a new policy where you can't have a lone chapter full of author's notes, and since I got so many reviews on Chapter 20 and I don't want to delete it entirely and lose my reviews, I cut up the already-short epilogue into two parts. So here's the first party – sorry if it's really choppy, but it's not my fault. Grrr.

**Epilogue  I**

Ginny stared at her reflection in the mirror. How had it come to this? So quickly? It seemed like just yesterday she had left Hogwarts. Or better yet, it seemed like just yesterday she'd been celebrating her sixteenth birthday.

But no. Just yesterday, she had been put to one of life's most important tests: how to refrain from killing your mother the day before your wedding.

Now she sat in front of her vanity table, listening and thinking. The wedding was to take place outside. This idea had been last minute, decided only that morning. Ginny had woken up to find it a beautiful, clear, crisp October day and had run straight to her mother's room demanding that they have the ceremony outside. It had been her dream since she was younger, to have an outdoor wedding, but Molly Weasley had put her foot strictly down on this idea the moment she heard it spoken aloud two months ago.

"You can bet that it will be raining or cloudy on your wedding day, Ginny dear," she said. Ginny could tell by her tone that she wanted to have the wedding in a beautifully decorated hall, yet didn't want to sound like she did. "Wouldn't it be safer to make arrangements with Fidanzato Sala?" 

Ginny nearly snorted in Mrs. Weasley's face. Fidanzato Sala was an elaborate, extravagant hall in the largest wizarding town in Europe. The town, Veneficus, was located in Southern Italy and it was where only the wealthiest wizards and witches got married. The place wouldn't be too shabby to be married in, but how in God's name were they to afford it?

As it turned out, despite the protests from Arthur and Molly, the Malfoy family ended up paying for most of the wedding. Ginny's father she knew felt shamed that they couldn't afford more than to pay for the floral arrangements and the insanely expensive wedding dress. Molly was quick to remind him that it was the least Lucius Malfoy could do for them. After all, he had caused Arthur humiliations and unneeded stress in his life, hadn't he? 

"He deserves very well to pay for our daughter's wedding," Molly said pointedly.

"It's his son's wedding too, Mum," Ginny had added quietly, but had been promptly ignored.

Ginny smiled faintly when thinking of this. It was all her mother could do to forget whom her youngest-and-only-daughter was marrying. In fact, it was all any of the Weasleys could do. 

Ginny and Draco kept their relationship a secret for two and a half years. Those first six months were the hardest, Ginny decided – those months had occurred while she was still at school, and trying to find ways to sneak to Hogsmeade to see him, or write him elaborately long letters on her life without any nosy Seventh Years reading over her shoulder had been tough. 

She saw him twice a week during those first few months. Every Friday and Saturday night she'd sneak out and fly to Hogsmeade. This wasn't so difficult; after all she'd flown to see him at his house, and the only tricky part of that was the Floo part. Now she had a way to visit him, minus the Floo. But it was staying out with Draco all night, most of the time until five o'clock in the morning, and returning to school to do her loads of homework during the day that got to her. Since it was the final months of school, the teachers piled up the work, giving up to three hours of only one subject. And because of this the week wasn't much better. Ginny walked around half-dead during the weekdays, deprived of sleep and wondering how she was passing all her classes. It was really only during her visits with Draco did she feel alive.

And, on top of not having much sleep, Ginny was just getting to know Draco. Sure, they'd been through a terrible ordeal together, and she'd spent nearly four weeks with him already. But now that they were back in usual circumstances, she was beginning to figure out the real Draco Malfoy. At times this got so frustrating she couldn't believe she was wasting her time on him; couldn't believe she was risking suspension from leaving the castle grounds and her precious sleep to see him. 

And then he'd kiss her, or touch her, and she wouldn't think such any longer.

Eventually, as her seventh year drew to a close, she began to understand him. He behaved the way he did only because he didn't know any better. And if you looked real closely, Ginny discovered, you could find subtle hints of his emotions and feelings through the cold mask he always wore. Such as the way his right eyebrow quirked when he tried to hide his amazement. Or the way his jaw muscle twitched when he was sad or disappointed. Or the way his eyes narrowed just a bit – so slightly he probably didn't even know he was doing it – when he was obviously thinking about nothing else besides her. But Ginny's favorite habit had to be the way his eyes turned more blue than gray when he was happy. 

He was like a code, Ginny realized. A code that had to be read carefully. And as time went by, and she spent more time with him, she began to decipher that code. Now she was certain she could read him unlike anyone had before.

Once Ginny completed Hogwarts things became much simpler. She moved out of the Burrow before the month of June had come to a close, and moved into her own apartment in London with a job as a waitress in a high-class Muggle restaurant. She had plans of making a career in the wizarding world of course, but she was to start taking classes in September, and needed a job to make money to live. Her hope was to start working in the Department of Magical Catastrophes, and this wasn't an easy department to get in to. So she had decided to go back to school (a school that was all about the Ministry of Magic; it wasn't nearly as grand or as popular as Hogwarts) to better her chances. 

Living on her own had given her the opportunity to meet with Draco often. Even though he was still living at home he found many excuses to meet her in the city, sometimes staying entire weekends in her apartment. 

The next year and a half went by like that, despite Ginny's return to school. 

Ginny found it astonishing that after nearly two and a half years she still was in love with Draco. She had thought that eventually she'd grow tired of him, or become fed up with the way he was. But just the opposite was true. She started to appreciate him more now that she knew what he was all about; now that she knew just about everything there was to know about him. If anything, she was more in love with him after so much time, because now she respected him. 

And apparently his thoughts weren't too much different from hers, because he didn't show any signs of wanting to leave. 

His eyes still became blue whenever he glanced at her.

That was good enough for her.

Ginny knew, though, that he'd never propose to her. He'd go on meeting her secretly for the rest of their lives if he could. But Ginny had already put off telling her family for two and a half years, and she needed to tell them. 

She wasn't going to tell them for no reason, however.

While snuggling together one night on the sofa in front of the television set Ginny had bought one year prior, she had turned to him and popped the question. She had merely rested her chin on his shoulder, her lips inches from his ear, and whispered, "Marry me, Draco?"

His eyes narrowed a bit, and he stared straight at the television for a moment longer. Then he turned his head to look at her, and his eyes were the bluest she'd ever seen them.

Twisting his lips into a smirk, he drawled, "I think I will."

It wasn't the ideal reply, of course. But Ginny knew that with Draco, you couldn't listen to what he said. You had to go by his reaction. And if his eyes were anything to go by, then he had basically meant, "I love you, and hell yes, I'll marry you!" 

So then she had a reason to tell her family about them. A very good reason.

Telling the Weasleys about their secret love affair of the past two and a half years had to have been the hardest thing Ginny had to do. Originally she had planned on telling all of them at once, but decided that would be equivalent to begging to be locked away for the rest of her life, and then paying someone to kill Draco. So she had told her mum and dad first.

If anything, her parents had been hurt that they didn't know about her "boyfriend". And they were polite to the fact that it was Draco Malfoy.

"Well, Ginny," Molly had said, forcing a smile, "if you love him, and you really think it's the right thing, then it's all right with me."

"I trust you, Ginny," Arthur had told her, but he didn't even attempt a smile. "If you think he's a good person, then I am going to trust you. But the moment he doesn't make you happy, then you put an end to the marriage. Do you understand what I'm telling you, Ginny?"

She had understood. But mostly, she had been relieved that they had taken the news relatively softly.

Her brothers, on the other hand, were an entirely different story.

She had told each of them individually, thinking they'd be less deadly when they weren't brought together. Yet it didn't make much of a difference. When she told Ron, Hermione declared she would have to sedate him if he didn't calm down in the next five minutes. When she told Fred, he had run straight to the next room where George was waiting for his turn to "hear the big news" and shouted incoherently at the top of his voice. Once George had managed to understand the three words Ginny, Malfoy, and marriage, he had joined in with the yelling. She had ended up leaving the two screaming at each other, feeling awful. When she'd told Percy, he began lecturing her on what a big step marriage was, and how long had she known Malfoy anyway? After ten minutes she had blocked him out. She told Charlie when he came home one afternoon, he had grimaced, demanded to know why he hadn't known they were dating, and asked if she'd slept with Draco yet. She'd left the kitchen with a bright red face. 

Bill, on the other hand, took it the best. He too had been home for the afternoon, and merely shrugged at her. "Well, if he makes you happy, then go for it, Gin," he'd said. 

Ginny smiled broadly at her reflection now, glad that that whole ordeal was over and done with. None of the Weasleys were _happy about the marriage, per se, but they had learned to live with the fact._

All of this had happened in August, and was followed by two months for the planning of the wedding. Surprisingly Draco had an active part in planning, beyond donating the money for most of the expenses. He had been right there with her when choosing the colors they were to decorate the marriage and reception halls, had been there beside her making a list of guests to invite, had even suffered through several dinners at the Weasley household. And he had done an excellent job, Ginny thought. He had been wonderfully polite, even complimented her mother on the _superb _cooking. 

She hoped that her family would see how happy she was with him, and how well he treated her. Despite their frequent, minor arguments over the stupidest things, he was really quite a gentleman when it came to handling her. 

Well, if they had or they hadn't, the marriage had stayed on for October 21st, and Draco had yet to be found brutally murdered. As the time came closer and closer, Mrs. Weasley became a lot more nervous than Ginny. After all, she _had married him before. It wasn't like this was her first time. Besides, she was absolutely sure she wanted to marry him. She'd never been more certain about anything in her life. _

The final week before the wedding, Molly had gotten on Ginny's last nerve. Every day she wanted to take Ginny back to the bridal salon to make sure her dress still fit. 

"Do you honestly think I'm gaining that much weight, Mum?" she had demanded angrily. "It'll fit! It did yesterday, it will today, and it will on Saturday."

Molly had chosen to ignore her.

And when Ginny had woken up that morning to find the bright sunshine streaming through her hotel window, she decided in an act of defiance that she wanted her wedding _outside._ It was only six in the morning, but she had hurried into her mother's adjoining room and woken her up with a brief nudge.

"I want," Ginny declared with flourish, "my wedding outside."

Thinking back on it now, she realized it was rather mean and selfish of her. Her mum only wanted her to have a nice wedding, after all. Fidanzato Sala _had looked spectacular, green silk covering the walls, the thick carpet magicked to glitter silver, flowers of every color hanging on the altar, around the entire room. Even though Ron had nastily demanded to know why the Slytherin colors had prevailed as the main theme, it was easy to see even he found it breathtaking. _

Yet that morning, Ginny had been so fed up with her mother she really didn't think of all these things; really didn't care how her mother was thinking in terms of making her wedding beautiful. She just knew that outside it was sunny, cool, and the blue sky was cloudless – and that was all it took. She was going to have her wedding outside, even if she and Draco had to elope.

From about seven AM to a half hour before the wedding was to take place (which was at two o'clock), the hotel was in complete chaos. The wedding had been moved from Fidanzato Sala to the hotel's courtyard, and somehow they needed to get owls to all the guests saying the location had been changed. They needed to set up enough chairs for everyone, and an organ needed to be set up for music. An altar needed to be set up as well, and decorated, but for the most part, the lovely flowers in the courtyard were decoration enough. 

At noon, Mrs. Weasley saw Ginny strolling through the courtyard, watching the progress of several hotel assistants using magic to set up chairs. She hurried up to her daughter in a panic.

"Ginny! It's one o'clock! Why aren't you getting ready?"

By then, Ginny was so thrilled that her dream wedding was taking place that she didn't even feel irritated. "Sorry, Mum. I didn't notice it was time already."

Molly nodded absently, and took a minute to shout at Fred and George that they, too, needed to get dressed.

"Mum?" Ginny asked a bit timidly, feeling her first pang of guilt for causing her mother extra stress. "Would you come in shortly and help me? You know, with my hair and makeup."

Molly turned to her with a gentle smile. "Of course, darling. I'll be right in."

* * *


	20. Epilogue II

Epilogue II

So here Ginny was, sitting in her wedding dress (corset free, thank God) and staring at her own face in the mirror. Her hair was drawn up in a sexy twist, with several tendrils hanging down her neck, and her veil sat on top of her head perfectly. Her dress was exquisite – even more so than the one she wore at her first wedding. It was the color of faint ivory and made of satin. It had spaghetti straps – far more attractive than bushy sleeves, she thought – and the neckline didn't plunge so low. The bodice was decorated with beaded embroidery in what looked like a vine, trailing down past her waist and onto the skirt. It was expensive, of course, but with most of the other things already paid for by the Malfoy family, the Weasleys had been able to afford it. 

Yet her surroundings were less than elegant. In Fidanzato Sala she'd had her own little "dressing room" right across the hall of where they were to be married. But now that the ceremony wasn't taking place there, a new dressing room had to be erected. This new one consisted of four walls of sheets, held up to the ceiling by magic, right near the door that led outside to the courtyard. The only thing that was there in her little dressing room was her vanity table, and the box that held her shoes. She had yet to put them on.

Ginny had just shooed everyone out of the place, because she wanted a few minutes alone. She could hear the music, and knew from rehearsal last night that the flower girl was going up the aisle now. Soon, it would be her turn. Soon she would be going up to meet Draco. Marry him out of her own free will.

She felt nervous, there was no doubt about that. But unlike last time, where her entire body felt like a solid block of ice, now it was only her feet that felt numb. This really was cold feet. Everyone got them. It was natural. That knowledge was more soothing than frightening, oddly.

As Ginny stared into her own eyes, several things flashing through her mind, one thing stuck out in particular: how did her life come to this?

It wasn't the sort of oh-what-have-I-gotten-myself-into question, as most people might ask themselves. It was more of a curiosity question. Who knew that the one person she never thought as a human being would end up being her life's partner? Certainly she would've never guessed it. But a lot had changed over the past two and a half years, and she knew it now. She knew now that things aren't always what they seem.

"Ginny?" her father's voice called. "Ginny, are you ready?"

"Yes, Dad," she replied. 

Leaning over, she put on her shoes. Then she glanced in the mirror once more, and smiled brightly at her image. 

A moment later, she stepped out of her pathetic dressing room. The last of her bridesmaids were stepping through doors into the courtyard. Hermione flashed her a wide grin before disappearing into the bright sunlight.

"Ginny, dear," Arthur said kindly, holding out his arm. "It's almost time."

She smiled back at him, and took his arm. But she didn't reply.

Ginny stared ahead at the doors. Really, there was only one door, but someone had used a Stretching Charm on the wall to add another one and give it a chapel effect. She was grateful to whoever did it.

"Are you ready, Ginny?" Arthur asked her softly, and she turned her head to meet his eyes. "I mean, really?"

"Yes, Dad," she answered genuinely. "I am." 

He half-smiled, looked sad, and patted her hand. "I can see that he loves you," he said quietly. "I can see it. And I know you love him. I just hope that it's enough."

Arthur then glanced away and stared ahead.

A smile spread across her face as she studied his profile. Oh, he really was too good to her. Her entire family was. She was too lucky.

The double doors opened by magic. A blast of bright sunlight reached Ginny's eyes, and she blinked. Immediately after, the music began right on cue. They began walking in step, and for the second time in her life she started walking down the aisle towards Draco Malfoy.

"All you need is love," she whispered fiercely.

_All you need is love._

_All you need is love,_

_All you need is love, love._

_Love is all you need._

~The Beatles

* * *

A/N: Well, that's it. That's the end. I hope you all have enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Even though it was painstaking, frustrating, and plain annoying at times, overall it really was kind of fun.

One final thanks to everyone – you really make my days! I could never say thank you enough.

**Sweet Immortal** (really? The best? Wow, thanks!), **Shinga (haha, I know I'm evil. I'm glad you liked the horse . . . I myself thought it was rather smile-inducing), ****Archer (Stacy! Haven't heard from you in a while. Are we going to be blessed with any lovely fics in the near future? *looks hopeful* Anyway, glad you liked the chapter!), ****God of Fire (hope the ending wasn't _too sweet), **daWOODisOnfire** (I just didn't think Lucius would kill her for being there – he'd rather have her wander around the house forever, haha. But anyway, thanks a lot!), _****Snow White (lol, just a few!), ****cosmos (thanks! I'm flattered that you think so), **ChildLikeTendencies** (I'm glad!), **Sierra Sitruc** (writing this stuff takes time, you know!), **Kat Riddle** (two hours? Wow, that's a long time to read a chapter. I'm flattered that you take so much time!), **Jewel Giovanni** (thanks!), **Asanya** (haha, aren't we all jealous?), **NiMiBabe** (why thank you!), **smoo** (haha, thanks), ****A Devilish Angel, Mione G, stormyfire, Crystal Lily (I tried!), **Nathalie** (definitely good, hee), **lightning bug** (Ha, you caught me, Claire. I actually did the get the idea of Romeo and Juliet, even though I haven't seen the movie in ages. Sorry about not doing a sequel!), **Black Ice** (that's exactly why I'm not doing a sequel – because I don't now how to work it in! Thanks), ****Luna Writer (Mean? Haha, that's just the way I am, I suppose. And I'm not sure where I got the inspiration. It just came to me, I guess), **Princess Cora** (it IS the best ship, isn't it?), **Book-Lover-210, insomniacgal** (Well done with the theories, though. Sorry, no sequel!), ****Rosandra May (I'm glad! *giggles back*), **elen **(thank you! Yes, Draco is rather cute, isn't he?), **hpangel **(perfect? Why thank you), **VioletJersey** (haha! Your review made me laugh. I think odd places to snog is just what every D/G fic needs!), ****Midnight (you want more Lucius? Well, let's just say he wasn't at the wedding, as it might've been too painful for him. I'm glad you found a part funny, but unfortunately the review screwed up and I didn't get to see what line you liked! Still, I'm very happy you like it, thanks for all the wonderful reviews), **Amanda Mancini** (haha, ain't that the truth), **ShortNSweet** (I hope I can convert you to D/G. Anyway, glad you liked it!), ****Mia (of course, D/Gness is the best!), ****Redbug, wmlaw (oh, go write the smut yourself! *sticks out tongue* But seriously, thank you, you've always reviewed my stories, and I'm eternally grateful to you. Thanks for sticking with me!), ****Augurey (thank you!), ****Manissetan (*blushes* I don't think I'm going to do a spinoff, just because I don't have, ah, enough experience in that field. But if I ever do I'll be sure to email it to you!), ****Dorthey Star, **starbrite, DarkKnight** (Thanks! Talk to you soon, I hope), ****jburd, Nobodysbitch (haha!), **skyblusilver** (wow. Your review was wonderful! I also love fics with all those aspects, so I try to put them into my story. Thank you so much), ****audig (ha, don't want you to be in trouble with your dad. Thanks!), **Lisa** (they did eventually!), ****Morwen Langan (ha, I'm sure that someone somewhere will write the smut, but what with NC-17 being banned . . . maybe not. They could always make it a 'tasteful' NC-17 and down the rating to R, of course . . . but anyway, thanks!), **Jelli Bean** (muntinyahous? Now there's a word. Heehee, thanks!), ****HEart2HEart (yep, I continued!), ****Sarah Black (ha, Dumbledore sure is. Thanks for putting me on your fav's list!), ****Sea Chelle (Ha, thanks! I try to portray them, but sometimes they have mind's of their own . . .), **evie, Temptress **(wouldn't that be classic? But no, it didn't happen), ****blackbandit (eek, sorry for Immature!Ginny. But I'm glad you liked it overall), ****Calendar (we all want to see smut! Haha), ****Eleret (thank you!), **nebbie/nebula** (it wasn't quite over, but now it is! Sorry, no sequel!), ****BetsyBiggerstaff_AllisonGrint (haha, go ahead, marry it! Well, thank you, Betsy, for the lovely review), **Hermione2003Potter** (I sure will! Thanks!), **GinnyPotter387** (you _dreamed_ about it? Wow, I can't believe it had that much impact! But I'm glad you figured it out, Laura, well done! Thanks, D/G is the best, isn't it? *falls into fluff, too*), ****The Spectre of Sanity (argh, I hate it when my computer freezes! Thanks for being with me since the beginning!), ****TheGirlWhoLived (sorry, Elaine! No sequel. Thank you for always being there!), ****kiwi_special_baby@yahoo.com (Thanks! Ha, them telling everyone is the best part, sorry I didn't elaborate!), **The Faerie and The Phoenix**, **Aradia** (Honestly? Thank you! That means a lot to me. Thanks again!), ****Aerial (good!), ****manda, dragongirlG (yes, I'm a coward, that's the only reason I didn't write the smut. Haha. Glad you like it!), ****Eiez (haha, actually, I'm not Australian. I'm American. Yeah, I know I added jumper, but that's just because I know they call it that in Britain. Sorry to confuse you!), **Mage of Fire, Grammar Queen** (Haha, rocks your flip-flops? Well, I'll take that as a very highly given compliment, seeing as you never review. Thanks!), ****Ailsa (Awwww…is the Pope Catholic? Haha, yeah, joke. But anyway, wow, 13 reviews while you were reading? That's a buttload! But don't be jealous: the best stories, I've found, have like, 13 reviews total. Haha), **unregistered** (thanks!), **Jam-jackson** (I understand. Thanks for the review), **FireSprite** (you know you have permission, Emma! Oh yeah! Good point, about the Dumbledore/office thing. JKR needs to come out with the next book so I don't keep forgetting all this crap!), **sparkleygem** (haha, fanfiction from fanfiction? Anyway, hope you had fun on your holiday, and your review really makes me SMILE. Thank you!), ****myself (wow, hon. That's just about the most heartfelt review I've ever gotten before. Thank you, very much. Just thank you), ****THx (thanks!), **legally blonde** (thank ya much!), **Silverwitch** (the best? Well, thank you! I do intend to write more fics, even originals. It would be wonderful to have a book published . . . anyway, off topic), ****miss lily (sorry, I don't think I'm making a sequel!), **Bekkle, Shatze** (forgot your password? Tsk, tsk. Anyway, sugar is good for the body . . . I think . . .), **Twistie, karen** (thank you!), **Obscure dreamscape** (thank you! That really means a lot), **Laura** (I'm very glad you did let me know what you think! It made me all fuzzy inside. Thanks so much!), **Aie Dust** (bwa ha ha ha! Yes, very evil. Of course D and G are perfect for each other!), ****Swim Freak (thanks!), ****LexiGurl (thank you! Thanks for letting me know), **Tupper** (haha, the best? Well, I suppose I _can't_ argue, hee), ****Ceara (thanks!), ****muffinfaerie (heh, abrupt, was it? Nope, Harry wasn't magical. He just kind of . . . was there. Glad you came out of your usual pairings to read my fic!), **Alexa, Neni Potter** (wow, thank you! Sorry, but I can't write smut. If I did, you all would say, 'And I thought she was a _decent_ writer?' I promise you you will!), **caroline, Zimmy Russell** (hey, thanks for the emails!), **crystal angel** (Jack IS cool, isn't he?), **Maurant Flamme **(wow, darling, since you took so much time to review, I'll take a few seconds out of my life to reply [despite how long this thank you section already is]. Just thanks for taking so long to review, even though you'd already read the entire fic and could've only reviewed one chapter. Ha, I'm glad I've converted you! I would love to read your Herm/Draco story, if I could find the time! But basically, I'm just glad you've discovered the wonderful world of D/G! And I'm terribly sorry if this thank you is so short, considering how much time you put in to review, but I've got to study and I want to get everyone thanked before I do! Thanks once again), ****Emerald Dragon (haha, well, there won't be a sequel – sorry! But yes, Draco and a horse in his room is quite amusing), ****Reah (no problem! Glad you could review now. Haha, I know, JKR _could find a way to pair them. Wouldn't it be hysterical if she did? Well, I think it would be, anyway. Thanks!), _****ElfinKat (would you really? If you wrote it I would absolutely _love_ to read it! Since NC-17 fics are banned, then just email it to me. Thanks!), ****Brooke, sasori (thank you!), ****cuty-cat (I'm not sure how I came up with the ideas! They just came to me. But thanks!), ****Shooting Jewel (yes, it is hard, isn't it? I'm thrilled that you like how I did it. Thank you much!), **Michelle Wood** (he might've, but I think he had already left his office while they were, uh, occupied. Haha, thanks!), **Emily** (glad to make your weekend!), **StuntWoman** (the best? Thanks!), **sneef22 **(thanks!), **charismatic** (sorry it took so long!), **Aude **(thank you so much), ****Dorothy (thanks for the long review! Sorry to confuse you about the Jack thing. Thanks for reading my story and reviewing!), **Eleclya** (glad you like it!), **Amber** (oh, hon there's plenty of great D/G's out there! Just gotta find them. But thank you!), ****kai kai (no problem!), ****^.^^.^ (yes, it's is over, sadly), ****eclectus (Haha, don't feel bad. But thanks for your review!), **Kiwi** (wow, thanks! That really means a lot to me), and ****mad mandy (yep, here the epilogue is!).**

And thanks to all those who went above and beyond reviewed and actually drew pictures for my story. 

Thanks to Stacy (**Archer **– ), Julia () [you'll have to join the groups to see these pictures], and Agata *Princess* Seymanski (, , and ). Also to **SilverPhoenixWings (or Dani) who emailed me her spectacular drawing. They're all very beautiful and I thank you for drawing them for me.**

Also special thanks to Catherine Danielson for her beautiful version of chapter 17. Try the link: and see if it works.

Great, huge, big thanks to **Christine**, who when I started was my beta for quite some time. And then great, huge, big thanks to **Tia for taking over and being another wonderful beta. And also to **Elaine**, who read over some of the chapters to make sure they sounded right, and whose long emails always entertain me. **

Thanks to you all!

**Final Author's Notes**

Well. The fic is finally over. And I'm not sure if I'm sad or glad. It's a year, after all. I've never worked so long on a story before. I thank you all who encouraged me to keep on writing.

I just have a few final (and rather short) things to say, and then I'll never bother you with anything about _All You Need is Love_ again. ;)

This piece of fanfiction is not **historically accurate by any far stretch of the imagination. I started the story just making things up as I went along, but as it progressed, I looked most of the facts up. Yet for the most part, it isn't true to reality. When in all actuality JK Rowling's world isn't quite true to reality, either, and here I am borrowing from it. **

My **characterization_ of Ginny_** is mostly how I think she should be. It's true that all we know about her is that she's very talkative around her family, as quoted in _The Chamber of Secrets_, page 40, American edition: _"Ginny," said Ron. "You don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally –" and that she is also immensely shy and timid around Harry. Writing a story centered around a character we don't know much about isn't too simple, and I think that everyone's interpretation of Ginny Weasley is different. To some, she's the type who cowers in front of Draco. To others, she's the type who defies everything Draco says with some snappy comeback or snide retort. I tried to mix a little bit of both in when writing her character._

My **characterization of Draco** is, once again, just based on my assumption. We know Draco's mean, even cruel, to Harry, Hermione, and Ron, and that his insults at Ron could be taken in offense by Ginny. We know his family is in to the Dark Arts, that Lucius is a Death Eater. We can _deduce_ that he worships the ground his father walks on. But never has JK Rowling made him be the type who tries to hide his feelings. In fact, there are several instances when Draco acts cowardly and unsure of himself quite vividly. I incorporated my own thoughts of him trying to seal off his expressions by characterizing him how I see him when he gets older. In the first four books that are out currently, he's really just a kid. As he gets older he will probably learn to not allow anyone to see what a shitty life he really has – that is, if he even despises his life, which we have no solid proof of. 

As to some of your reviews in relation to **Lucius's response** of Ginny being in his house, I don't think he would've hurt her. He would've been much more pleased to have her wander through his house forever. After all, he's only tried to harm her once, and that wasn't by his own hand or wand – but by the diary. 

And . . . as a final **disclaimer**, this story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The title _All You Need is Love belongs rightly to The Beatles, or whoever owns the copyright. _

Ahh, and now about a **sequel**. I know just about everyone has been asking, and I'm finally answering:** there won't be a sequel. Yes, yes, I'm aware that you would like one, but for the life of me I can't think of any sequel that would be relevant. Besides, Draco and Ginny are married and they're going to live happily ever after: would you really want me to send them into another situation that threatens their lives?**

Just because I'm not doing sequel doesn't mean you've seen the end of me yet. Ha! Think again. But I will need some time to gather my ideas and think of another plot, so it might be a little while before you'll see anything else from me.

With the exception of the fic I'm writing with Emma, of course. So if you just can't get enough of me, as I'm sure you can't (see how conceited I'm getting?), then go ahead and follow our story. The link's on my profile.

In one last **conclusion**, I just want to thank everyone who reviewed. I never, ever, in my wildest imagination believed the story would become this big and get so many reviews. And as only about two of those reviews are flames, I think I did okay for someone who hasn't even gotten her permit yet :b. I just want to let you all know that I read each review individually each time, and it never ceases to make me happy to see I've gotten another review. So if you think your review got lost among the thousand of others, then don't think that any longer; it hasn't! I've read it and appreciated it immensely.

Thanks one final time.

_Love,_

_MochaButterfly_


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